Inch by inch, we retreat back into the bathroom. When we're inside, Katerina shuts the door and throws the lock. She turns to face me. It's then that I can look her in the face for the first time.
She's wild-eyed. Her hair is mussed, unmade, split ends fraying in every direction. It's so alien on her that I have to blink to be sure I'm truly seeing it.
But I am.
It's desperation in Dolce & Gabbana.
"Stop f*****g staring at me!" she seethes, surging forward suddenly to crack me across the face with a wicked backhand.
The unexpected blow snaps my head to one side and my neck screams in protest. One of her many rings cuts open my cheek, too, and I feel the wet heat of blood trickle from the wound.
But my mouth stays sealed shut. If she wants me to beg for mercy, she'll have to do a hell
