I cross my arms over my chest to cover up what he has already gotten more than an eyeful of, but it’s futile. Arrick turns, throwing jeans and a sweater my way so they land on the bed right in front of me and push the rest of my clothes back in my rucksack. He is a man on a mission, blinkered by rage and completely closed off from the guy I trust. All I can do is obey and stand here feeling weak and fragile. I’m numb and speechless; arguing won’t work when he’s like this. He has that ...