The Person Who I love or The Person Who Loves Me

I attempted to explain, my sickly and pale face creased with a deep frown. 

"He was just bringing me my homework, Granma."

Her response was a deafening scream.

"So that's why your grades are dropping? Because you're busy flirting with that boy?!"

"But my grades aren't actually dropping, and how did you even come up with that conclusion?" I countered, my voice barely more than a weak murmur.

"What did you just say?!" Granma roared, her face turning a deeper shade of crimson. "Now you're already answering back to me?!"

Before I could utter another word, she lashed out with her cane, striking me repeatedly. Her venomous words accompanied each blow. 

"And now you're sick! Did he impregnate you?!"

"He didn't—" I attempted to defend myself, but Granma continued her relentless assault. "Nothing happened..."

Yet, as the blows rained, I realized that reasoning with her was futile. She would never accept any explanation I offered.