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“Look at me,” I whispered. But she choked out a sob, turning her face away so I wouldn’t see. “Don’t,” she demanded. “Please, don’t be sweet. I…” But all she did was shake her head, the words lost. Rage boiled my blood, and I wanted to know what happened. Who hurt her? The sight of her crying was like a knife in my gut. But she wouldn’t talk to me. Not yet. Maybe never. “Knock-knock,” I said. She just sighed but stayed silent. I knew I was being annoying. I’d punch me if I were her.” — Penelope Douglas
Look at me,” I whispered.
But she choked out a sob, turning her face away so I wouldn’t see. “Don’t,” she demanded. “Please, don’t be sweet. I…”
But all she did was shake her head, the words lost.
Rage boiled my blood, and I wanted to know what happened. Who hurt her? The sight of her crying was like a knife in my gut.
But she wouldn’t talk to me. Not yet.
Maybe never.
“Knock-knock,” I said.
She just sighed but stayed silent.
I knew I was being annoying. I’d punch me if I were her.