Still crying over what had happened, I return to the kitchen where I try to concentrate on my work. However, I can't do it, because the shame and anger over the terrible things Ethan did to me, as always, fill my mind.
In this moment of suffering, my angel appears, and without having seen or witnessed anything that happened, Matthew approaches me with a calm step.
“What's wrong? Why are your cheeks so red and crying?” He asks concerned.
“It's nothing.” I try to avoid the question.
“Tell me the truth. Alice, I've known you since you were a child. You never cry for fun and don't tell me it's garbage in your eyes, because I've heard that many times.” Matthew insists: “Tell me, what's wrong? I'm not going to stop insisting until you tell me.”
I don't need a psychologist now, but watchin
