I sink to my knees in front of her, my fingers wrapping around her forearms, and her head whips up with a choked gasp. She leaps to her feet, clutching her towel to her chest, and slaps furiously at the tears streaming down her cheeks. It’s no use; she sobs harder, louder, and I think I’m dying. In fact, when she dashes into the bedroom, cowering in the corner, like she’s afraid of me, I’m certain of it.
