#Chapter97
They both sit and begin to eat; the silence is awkward and tense, but no one attempts to initiate conversation. The nurse looks around timidly before deciding staring at her plate is the best option and lowers her head. Finally, feeling my irritation rise beyond control, I break the glass-like atmosphere with a sledgehammer.
/"Why are you here?/" I blurt out, with not so subtle venom.
/"I … We needed to talk about things, Emma./" She lowers her lashes, attempting to be coy, maybe even feebleness, but it only angers me. Putting her fork down and crossing her hands on the table she leans toward me.
/"About what exactly? The fact that you’re screwing the man who loves to beat both of us up and tried to rape your only child?/" I spit, harshly, taking delight in the nurse’s gasp of shock and the color rising up her cheeks.
I guess she didn’t know after all.
