She can't hide the small hiss of pain when his thick fingers close around her wrist, brush tenderly across her burns, and she's forced to move in closer to the bars so he doesn't snap her wrist like the twig he doesn't know she looks like. Which is a difficult feat when she also has to try very hard not to let her bare forearms touch the iron bars, either.
(And it's a strange smell he gets off her, actually. Almost like caramel ice cream.)
The scowl on her face deepens, but she presses her lips, clenches her jaw firmly to stop them from trembling, and growls back in her squeaky mid-teen voice, "Am I supposed to be scared of that?"
And then spits into his face. Hopefully she gets an eye.
coraline no
She can't hide the small hiss of pain when his thick fingers close around her wrist, brush tenderly across her burns, and she's forced to move in closer to the bars so he doesn't snap her wrist like the twig he doesn't know she looks like. Which is a difficult feat when she also has to try very hard not to let her bare forearms touch the iron bars, either.
(And it's a strange smell he gets off her, actually. Almost like caramel ice cream.)
The scowl on her face deepens, but she presses her lips, clenches her jaw firmly to stop them from trembling, and growls back in her squeaky mid-teen voice, "Am I supposed to be scared of that?"
And then spits into his face. Hopefully she gets an eye.