I rose from my seat and climbed the stairs to my office. I was in no position to manifest whatever reactions I bore because of her. A new wave of shame more lancinating than the previous one threatened to overwhelm me. What on bloody earth is she doing to me?!
I rubbed my temples and took a deep breath, inhaling the clean air provided by the recently opened window. I heard steps from behind and turned around so brutally that Luke, momentarily intruded, backed away in surrendering my rage.
"I left her in the company of your books. I felt the need to confront you. What made you snap so quickly?"
—
I clenched my fists, and my knuckles instantly turned white. My gestures have become repetitive, a stereotype of frustration and God knows what other emotions. I needed to get a grip on my life as soon as possible.
"It is her. It is all her fault, for bloody sake! She is twisting me around her finger like I am some mediocre, emotion-driven puppet!"
