“I’ve talked to Farrow about it a bit. That night—I let it catch me. It rooted itself in me. It’s anger like I’ve never felt before. I’m not an angry person,” I tell him. “Never really have been. But sometimes I’m just so full of fucking rage about what happened.” I wipe at the wet creases of my eyes. “I’ve never hated parts of myself until now. But how the hell do you stop being angry at how much pain the girl you love was put through?”
