Shit. [ It doesn't seem to have been the wrong thing to say the first time and doesn't feel any less appropriate the second. Kate says it a little bit slower, a shade more seriously.

And she thinks seriously about rolling over, to look at Johanna, maybe hug her. She wishes Johanna were even the tiniest bit the sort of person that would work with. It's a selfish wish, since it'd make this easier on Kate, make her feel less completely useless and floundering in the face of it.

Instead she says, ] Attacking a bathtub faucet wasn't exactly subtle. [ And tips her head to flash just the briefest hint of her kindest teasing smile before she sets her head back down. ]

There used to be this one dream I had over and over. So every night before I went to sleep I'd make myself play it out in my head start to finish, but I'd change something so in my version I broke his nose and ran. Every night I'd picture it like that instead until finally I started dreaming it that way. Might be worth a try. Give yourself an axe.