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“I hate this,” she said “I hate this so much”

“Being here?” I asked, a lu to form in my throat

“No,” she said “Yes I don’t know Both I hate being so vulnerable I hate having to depend on someone else to take care of me You shouldn’t have to do this”

“But I want to I offered”

“I hate that you have to protect me That you have to risk your own safety forand can do things forsomeone to take care of me You shouldn’t have to do that You are too kind and too sweet, and you’re sharing your home with me, and all I can do is sit here and be scared and frustrated and terrified and useless”

“You don’t have anything you need to be upset about when it co else I get that But you don’t have to addyou out”

“I should be able to handle this myself,” she muttered

“How? By trying to talk sense into these guys?” I asked “Look, it’s okay to be vulnerable so no rational person could expect one hu you and trying to kill you would fit into that description”

“Would you?” she asked suddenly

“Would I what?”

“Would you accept help from someone else about a problem you had?”

I wanted to answer yes I wanted to tell her that of course I would, because that wouldit from me But that would be manipulative It would be a lie