I take a breath of air, getting the tremors in my hands to calm down a bit. I know I'm going too far, but anger won't let me think rationally, not even fear.
I see that her hands are shaking too, but I'm not sure why; whether it's because she's angry or she's holding back the urge to cry.
Frankly, it seems to me that it is the first option.
"I told my brother I would take care of you, that means taking care of your life, right?," I spoke suddenly, fed up with the silence that has settled between us.
"You don't have to take care of anything that doesn't concern you, Peter," she says, still in a serious manner. She seems self-possessed, controlled and incredibly serene. Something I still don't have. "My life is mine and I decide about it, okay?"
"Yes?," I spit ironically, practically s
