Its objective

“Are you going to stay silent? Aren't you going to tell me anything?” he throws, exasperated, I get out of bed and look for my shoes.

To think that he brought me in his arms to his room leaves me perplexed and confused. It doesn't seem real, and I don't consider it a dream, with him so angry I see myself in a nightmare. My head hurts a little; contemptuously he gives me the shoe, and I see it. Their blues are darkened. He has no compassion for me, and I should reply, he has portra