It can't be happening.
No. No, it's not happening.
I've never been more helpless or terrified in my life as Harriet runs into the street, the skirt of her dress flying out behind her on the breeze. Why did it take me so long to get up and chase after her? I know why, but there's no adequate excuse for letting her run. Letting her get away.
Still...
All this time, I've been shaming her for the death of my sister?
Jesus Christ.
In all my speculation over why Harriet needs to be punished and insulted during s*x, I never could have expected this—and it has ripped the heart straight out of my chest. That I participated. That I allowed it to go on. The amount of remorse she must feel for being even indirectly involved in the death of my sister must be astronomical if she is seeking retribu
