“It doesn’t matter.” And that is the only answer she deigns to give me before rolling her head back toward the starry sky hanging above us, avoiding my gaze. My fingers find her chin and then I’m tugging her face back in my direction so I can look her in the eyes as I say, “I’m going to ask again. Who did this to you?” My hand is still gripping her chin, her strong jaw, as she holds my gaze and says, “Why do you care?” Then she’s laughing bitterly, the sound vibrating under my fingers. “Because I don’t tolerate my toys being played with.” She is going to hate that.
AHHH
