CARLA
The ride home was silent. But there was an undeniable tension between Smith and I. He stopped the car in front of my apartment, but he didn't alight from it. I also stayed put, stealing glances at his stern face.
I've seen Smith get upset in the past, but I haven't seen him get this upset. His nerves were twitching, and his teeth wouldn't stop gritting. It was the kind of anger that could drive anyone into committing murder. If not controlled.
"Are you really okay, Carla?" He asked again. During the ride, he popped the question a few times. They were the only words he said to me. And I answered.
Why was he asking again? Why couldn't he believe that I was really alright?
"I'm fine, Smith. Told you already."
"Tell me the truth. Did he really not try to rape you?" He threw a look
