I could scream. I could yell that you were hurting me and let the tears come. No one would know that my cheeks were wet from frustration at our most recent argument. They would assume because of my words that you were trying to hurt me, take advantage of a local girl.
People nursing grudges against foreigners would leap into our fray with glee.
They would be on my side, blind to any signals from you that my distress was a farce, fabricated for my benefit and the destruction of yours.