You turn abruptly to face the voice. You find a woman with muscles that almost rival your own sitting in your windowsill. The curves of the spikey-hai...ed blonde make the tattered black shirt she wears loose over her midriff displaying her solid, scar-touched abs; the sleeves, however, grip tightly to the woman's muscular arms, more scars escape from the fabric's grip. A tattered pink fabric is tied around her waist, tight messy-white pants trail from the fabric to a armored and spiked-kneepads. ." Do what? What did you do?"He started to rub his neck again. "That's what I said. I said that Ididn't agree with it...and then he said well if I didn't agree with it,I should say something."Great moments in teen logic. By not vehemently denouncing something,you agreed with it. "Did you tell him that's not really possible?" Istarted to get agitated. Edward started to kick. I sat down. "Doeshe not understand that you were the one who got hurt, not," and I tooka deep breath. "them?" I. More

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