"I'm telling you to behave yourself," he replied. "Not that you're listening. Isabel can't do that, because that wouldn't make me angrier, and Isabel wouldn't get to play. the. martyr." Each of his final three words heralded a fresh wound on Isabel's back. They weren't just cuts now.
"Then who did, Isabel? You're the one who moved, you're the one who made me slip..." Vincent pressed his hand down on her neck a little harder, pushing her face down against the bed.