I didn't wait for Rion to answer. I couldn't bear the thought of hearing whatever clever retort he had waiting.
I turned on my heel and left him there, the unfinished bandage lying limp on the table.
By the time I reached my room, my breath came in shallow bursts, each inhale ragged with leftover anger. My hands still trembled, though I clenched them into fists to stop the shake. I shut the door of my bedroom.
It took a long time before sleep claimed me, and even then, it was restless.
When morning came, the haze of fury had burned away, leaving me calmer, though not entirely settled. I sat on the edge of my bed, brushing my fingers through my long hair . The memory of my raised voice, the words I had hurled, replayed again and again.
Had I been too harsh?
Perhaps. My voice had cracked, my control had snapped. But should I feel guilty for it? No. I had spoken the truth.
