I want to walk away, but the places are limited. I free my arm from Bart's grasp - the pettiest move I can do to channel my anger right now - and just turn around. I don't want to lock myself in my room, I just need some fresh air. I can't walk outside in these circumstances, so instead, I head for the patio. It involves crossing the living room full of people again, but I don't care. All of them can stare at me; I couldn’t care less what they think. This may have been like a teenager’s tantrum, or the youngest throwing around her privilege, but I just don't care. I'm mad at them for being silent accomplices to Richard's attitude towards me.
The air is cold tonight, thankfully. I can breathe a bit, cool down, and watch my breath form little white clouds. I stand there for a moment, just
