The screen crashes into the tub with a splash, spraying water everywhere.
“Oh, my God!” Shanice yells through the phone. “Is that what I think it is?”
I can’t move. I just stare at the tub, the water now cloudy and full of shards of glass.
“Claire! Are you okay?” Shanice’s voice is panicked.
“Uh…” I manage to croak, still staring at the tub. “Yeah. I’m fine.”
“That’s not fine! That’s a goddamn death trap!”
The bathroom door swings open, and Damon strides in. His hair is messy, his chest bare, and he looks alarmed.
“What the hell happened?”
I point at the tub, still unable to form coherent words.
His eyes follow my finger. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Damon’s jaw tightens as he takes in the mëss—the wrecked TV half-submerged in the tub, the crackling sparks, the cloudy water.
