They wanted to call the police, I remember, but Harry, spitting blood from his mouth, told them not to. Guilt replaced the rage I’d felt. I couldn’t bear to look at his bruised and swollen face so I left him bleeding in the bar. I knew I couldn’t go back to the flat so I found a hotel for the night and asked you to meet me there. When I told you what had happened, you were horrified, and then angry, because you’d never seen that side of me before. How I wish it could have stayed that way.
