Looks Can Be Deceiving

"I can only imagine how difficult a time you must've had," my therapist smiled sympathetically at me.

I fought the urge to roll my eyes, No, bitch, you could never in your life imagine the shit I went through.

"It seems like such a traumatic event, so I can understand your frustration and stress--"

I grimaced, though it had been an attempted smile, You'll know the meaning of frustration if you don't stop fucking looking at me like that.

I hated coming here. I absolutely hated it. My anger management sessions with my therapist were generally scheduled for every week - unless I decided to skip a week, which I always did - but after the whole incident as Lyndsey's, Lyndsey had decided to call and up my frequency to twice a week, every week.

I'd all but had a meltdown once I'd received a call from the secretary to confirm my appointment the other day, which Lyndsey had used as further justification for signing me up for more sessions. I'd tried my hardest to get out of it, but not only had she threatened to call my parents back home and tell them, but she'd also gotten Brian to put the money down for a year's worth of sessions. Blackmailing bitch.

And now, here I was, being poked and prodded at by my therapist. She was always so happy, so...fucking calm. It aggravated me to no end. She always asked me the same old stupid fucking questions; How does that make you feel? and What could you do to turn that negative energy into something positive?. I don't think she realized that it only made me angrier. I'd tried several times to get a different person, but no. Apparently she's one of the best in the whole freakin' state.

Yippie. Note the enthusiasm.

"--Do you think you can do that?"

I blinked, "What?"

She giggled cheerfully, causing me to scowl, "I would like for you to fill out these questions, and when you're done, I want you to read them aloud."

Frowning, I took the sheet of paper, titled, Questions About Your Anger. Rolling my eyes, I looked over the questions. There were only a few on the paper, but that didn't matter. The fact that I had to answer little bullshit questions like this to begin with was what blew my mind. I mean, how old did I look to her, five? I scribbled my answers down on the paper and tossed the pencil onto the table in front of me, fixing her with a surly expression.

She smiled lightly at me, "All done?"

No, I'm just waiting for the fucking sky to fall, "Yes."

"Good!" she clapped, leaning forward with her trusty little therapist clipboard, "Now let's start with question number one. How do you know when you're angry?"

I simply stared at her. I mean, what the fuck kind of question was this? She looked at me expectantly, raising her eyebrows with a smile. I knew she wouldn't leave me alone until I answered.

I crossed my arms over my chest, "I know I'm angry when someone ends up on the floor hurt."

She stifled a giggle, "Okay, let's backtrack a bit. Before 'someone ends up on the floor', do you notice yourself getting angry?"

I didn't answer her, but she already knew my answer.

She continued, "So what are the earliest signs of your anger? Things that pop out at you, and make you think, 'Uh oh, I'm getting angry'?"

I shrugged, "I don't know."

"You don't know!" she gasped as though she were talking to a child, "Brittany, of course you know! I'm sure it all happens extremely quickly, but it does happen! Just take a minute to reflect in slow motion."

Fuck that. She was trying to prolong the torture, and according to that damn clock in the corner, I had ten minutes left of this shit. When that big hand reached the twelve, I was getting the fuck up outta here.

"Fine. I breathe hard, I get hot, I shake, my fingers twitch," I rolled off my tongue, "Am I done now?"

She chuckled, "Very good. And no, we're not done quite yet."

Naturally.

She continued, "So, some physical symptoms you feel are fast breathing, therefore maybe a fast heart rate, too?" she eyed me, looking up from her clipboard.

I shrugged, "Sure."

"Alright, and you also experience shaking, and the finger twitching can be noted as muscle tension?" she spoke, but I didn't bother with answering her because I thought it was pretty obvious, "Okay, good. Now, I would like for you to think about some mental symptoms. What goes through your mind once you feel yourself getting angry?"

I sighed, "I can't focus."

"Good," she nodded, scribbling on her clipboard, "That's lack of concentration. Do you experience any angry thoughts?"

"Like strangling a bitch with my bare hands?"

She chuckled with a nod, "Yes, that would be considered, Thoughts of doing harm."

I shrugged, "Yeah, I get that a lot."

"Okay, that's perfectly natural," she assured me, as if I didn't already know that, "Now tell me some of the things you may do in reaction to your anger, like....pacing? Do you pace a lot?"

"Yes."

"Okay, what other things do you notice that you do?"

I shrugged.

"How about throwing things?"

"Sure."

"And, how often do you think you throw things?"

I shrugged, "Depends on how mad I am."

"I see," she stated, scribbling furiously, "And we still yell and swear, I presume?"

This time, I grinned, "Wouldn't be me if I didn't."

She laughed heartily this time, "I see. It's evident that you take great pride in this; why do you think this is?"

I shrugged, "People push me because they don't know me, or think that cause I'm little, I won't say anything. They're ready to piss their pants when I go off on them, and then it's a lesson well learned."

"I understand," she smiled lightly, before her expression straightened, "Have there been any recent events where some people do not heed to the yelling and swearing?"

Memories of that night invaded my mind, and I squeezed my eyes shut. I hated thinking about that night. I'd done enough by giving a statement to the police, and also telling Matt about what'd happened. I didn't want to have to go through it again. I didn't know how long my resolve would last.

"Not recently, though it's happened frequently in the past," I answered stiffly, examining my nails.

"And how did you handle those situations in the past?"

Honestly? What the fuck am I here for?

"...With violence?" I stated pointedly, flashing her an incredulous look.

"And what were the consequences of resorting to violence, if any?"

"Broken everything. Anger turns into brute strength."

Again, she hummed to herself and scribbled everything down, "Were there ever any legal consequences?"

I scoffed, "No. I wish a bitch would take me to court after I done beat her ass into the ground for running her damn mouth too much."

Needless to say, she was done questioning me after that. We clearly weren't getting anywhere. The last couple of minutes of my session were spent going over new calming strategies that I could use whenever I got stuck in an angering situation. I highly doubted that they'd work, but I stiffly muttered a thank you before shaking her hand and bolted for the door.

I grumbled to myself as I exited the building. Going to anger management had aggravated me more than I'd been before. Stepping out into the sunlight, I breathed deeply, choosing to ignore the pain shooting through my side. It'd been a week since I'd been out of the hospital, and still, the pain had yet to let up.

"It's time to get you another dose of those pain meds, huh?"

"Motherfucking hell, Matt," I growled, whirling around to face the tall, bulky man behind me, "If you don't fucking quit sneaking up on me and scaring the damn life out of me, I will personally see to it that your balls hang from the top of your fireplace mantle as Christmas decorations, you hear me?"

Usually that terrified the life out of people, but Matt simply gave a hearty chuckle. Ignoring my obvious frustration, he placed a warm hand on my back and ushered me towards the parking lot. I twitched uncomfortably, the warmth of his fingertips sending an electric current flying across my skin.

"Ouch," I muttered, causing him to laugh again, "Seriously, you fucking shocked me!"

"Boo-hoo," he smirked, leading me to his dark car and opening the door for me, "Get in."

Now, that was something I wouldn't mind doing.

Matt's car was extremely nice. I didn't even know what kind of car it was, that's how nice it was. It wasn't a well-known car unless you happened to be filthy rich and bought cars out of the DuPont Registry. I couldn't remember the name Matt had told me, but damn was it gorgeous. It was long and sleek, with a leather interior. Dark tinted windows for privacy and an engine with a soft, yet powerful purr.

I was quiet as Matt closed my door and then walked over to the driver's side so that he could get in. It was kind of sad that Matt had to take me to and from therapy, as I had a perfectly good car in working condition, and was in good enough health to drive it myself. It's just the fact that if he didn't drive me to therapy himself, then I'd never get there. Lyndsey was smart enough to give him a heads up, unfortunately.

"So, how'd it go today?" Matt asked smoothly, turning the stereo down some as he weaved through traffic.

Was he fucking kidding? What in his fucking mind made him think that any trip to a shrink was a trip I'd ever wanna bring up in conversation? Was he smoking fucking crack? Maybe he was just doing it to get a rise out of me. Lyndsey had always said that I was entertaining when I was mad, at least until I started going ham on somebody's ass. But surely he'd know not to piss me off for the hell of it after recent events.

I thought my head would explode all of a sudden as the muscles in my arms began twitching involuntarily. Within a matter of seconds, my entire body was quivering with rage as I thought about how much I absolutely loathed coming to these appointments.

"Okay, okay, forget I asked," he interjected quickly, sensing the fact that I was ready to have a meltdown.

I suddenly understood what Dr. Rawlings had meant about recognizing my own symptoms of anger, though I'd never admit it to her nor myself. I clenched my eyelids shut, struggling to think back to what she'd said during the session about calming myself down.

Grimacing in pain, I worked to get my breathing and heart rate under control, and it wasn't without difficulty. I had to keep clenching and unclenching my fists, almost like squeezing an invisible stress ball. Chewing furiously at my lip, I began counting down from thirty in my head as I tapped my feet on the floor.

The lightheadedness I'd felt slowly ebbed away, and my muscles relaxed. My heart was still pumping fast and hard, but I knew that the rest of my body was now calm enough to influence my heart rate as well. I gripped onto my side as my breathing eventually returned to its normal pace.

"I don't know if you should be going to these sessions while your ribs are still healing," Matt muttered from his seat, glancing cautiously at me every once in a while as he drove.

"Wouldn't hurt my feelings any," I grumbled, chewing hard on my lip as Matt reached into the glove compartment and pulled out a bottle of pills. I frowned as he handed them to me, "What're these?"

"Oxycotin," he nodded, keeping his eyes on the road, "They'll numb you up a bit, unlike that Ibuprofen shit."

I blinked, "Won't I like...die or something?"

He scoffed, "No. They're pain medication."

"But I wasn't prescribed those!" I protested, slapping his outstretched hand away.

"So? I wasn't either and I'm perfectly fine." he shrugged.

"So, why do you have them then?" I asked, furrowing a brow at him.

He was silent for a minute, "You just never know when you'll need them for something. Can't be in pain and drive at the same time, y'know?"

I nodded, but chose to kept silent. Something about his explanation struck me as odd, though I wasn't sure what it was. Sighing, I took the bottle from his hand and read the label, seeing that I only needed to take one. I pulled one out and closed the bottle, putting it back where Matt had gotten it before swiping Matt's can of soda from the cupholder.

Matt grunted in protest, but I paid him no mind as I tossed the rather large pill down the back of my throat before chugging some of the soda. It ended up being a Pepsi, which I didn't mind, and so I quickly swallowed the pill. I cringed at the strange taste it had before settling back into my seat. I also handed back Matt's soda.

Looking out the dark window, I noted that I didn't recognize where we were. It wasn't the usual route that Matt would take to his house, and it wasn't a part of town that I was familiar with. Frowning over at Matt, I wondered where we were going, but didn't bother to ask. He had that concentrated expression again, and that meant silence.

"We're going to Brian's house since you seem so curious," Matt spoke almost immediately, causing me to jump. It was almost as if he'd read my thoughts. Kind of creepy.

At the same time, I was excited, "Will Lynds be there?"

"Where else would she be, if not attached to Syn's lips?"

I frowned, "Syn? Who's that?"

"I meant Brian," Matt answered slowly, a strange look on his face as he clutched onto the wheel.

"Well, why'd you call him that?" I wanted to know.

"I-I just call him that sometimes," he answered awkwardly, "Uh, it's...an old nickname."

I cocked an eyebrow, "Huh. It's different, that's for sure."

He chuckled shortly, "Yeah. It definitely is."

I went to ask him another question, but just as I turned to him, he floored it. Impressed with both the strong sound of the engine and the smooth handling of the car, I stayed quiet and simply marveled at the foreign machine. It was unlike anything I'd ever seen; too bad I’d never see enough money in my lifetime to even make the down payment on this type of car.

Again, I wondered what in the hell he did for a living to have a car this nice at such a young age. Lyndsey was sure it was old money running in the family. That made sense. Maybe the business he'd said he was in was a family thing, and that's how he was able to bring in so much. Connections, possibly.

The sound of the engine cutting off brought me out of my thoughts, and I turned to see Matt getting out from his side. I turned and followed suit, opening my door as Matt walked around to help me out. The car was so low to the ground that it was a little difficult to get out in my condition. I pretty much had to throw my legs over the side and do a sit-up type of deal to get out, so his help was definitely appreciated.

I squealed upon looking up at the house, fast-walking my way up the stone driveway. I nearly ran into one of Brian's car in my haste to reach the front door, which Matt scolded me for. If it were up to him, he wouldn't let me move a single inch. He was always afraid that I was going hurt myself. In truth, half the time I did just that.

The door was locked when I tried to open it, and I frowned back at Matt as we made his way up the walkway. With a small smirk he reached over me and raised a key to the doorknob, turning it until it unlocked and pushing it open for me.

"Are they even here?" I asked slowly, turning to furrow my eyebrows at Matt as we both stepped into the house. It was empty, as if no one was home. Nothing was cut on, and no one had bothered to come to the door in the first place.

"Yeah, they should be--" Matt was cut off by a loud thud.

That was when I heard it. Over and over again.

"Oh, that's just sick," I muttered, crinkling up my nose, stepping back towards the door, "That's the whole reason I didn't bother with staying here. They're lovesick little fucks."

A deep chuckle left Matt's throat, though I could barely hear it over all the sudden commotion going on upstairs, "C'mon, we'll just wait for them out back. Wanna go for a swim?"

Taking my hand, he quickly pulled me through the palace-like home and towards the sliding glass door on the other side. He quickly unlocked it and ripped it open, allowing me to escape into the sunlight illuminating the backyard. The first thing my eyes caught onto was the sparkling, blue pool.

I grunted at the thought, "I don't have a suit, remember?"

Smiling cheesily, Matt held up the dark duffel bag in his hand, "I may have bought you one since I didn't know where in your room to look."

I narrowed my eyes, "How would you know my size?"

"A little...birdie may have told me?"

"Mmhmm," I rolled my eyes, snatching the bag from him and rummaging through it, "And would this be the same birdie that's inside chirping her little head off because of Mr. Woodpecker?"

Matt snorted, "That's a creative way of putting it."

I made a noise of agreement, "Go on, now."

He eyed me funny, taking a seat at the water's edge, "Go where?"

"Away so I can change," I smirked to myself, pulling out the rather tiny red triangle bikini top and matching cheeky bottoms.

"Why can't you go inside to change?" he asked, ripping off his shoes and sticking his feet in the water.

I flashed him an incredulous look, "And be subjected to that?"

To make my point, the sound of something shattering inside the house could faintly be heard. I just shook my head and placed my hands on my hips for further emphasis. Matt sighed, got to his feet, and began walking towards the patio as I smiled smugly.

"Fine," he grumbled in his usual raspy tone, "I'll be gone long enough to get drinks and then I'm getting my ass out of there. Yours had better be changed, cause I won't stay in there with them any longer than I have to."

I smirked, "Fine by me. Have fun."

I snickered as Matt muttered a few choice words on his way back inside. Once the screen door was closed, I looked around the large yard for somewhere that I could discreetly change. There really wasn't anywhere. The yard was huge; it was like it just went on forever. There was so much grass, and the pool actually turned into some huge waterfall thing of sorts a good twenty yards away.

The yard was surrounded by a medium height brick wall, and if you were standing close enough to the wall, you could see the whole ocean just behind the property. The area surrounding the house was pretty empty, so I assumed that the beach just outside the wall was also private property.

Snapping out of my thoughts, I knew I didn't have much time before Matt came back. I ducked behind a little tree towards the back of the yard and stripped as quickly as I could. I felt a little freer than I would've liked, but that feeling didn't last long once I threw the bikini over my body.

Matt came strolling out of the house not even a full second later, and I inconspicuously moved away from the little tree I'd changed by. Of course, there was no fooling Matt, and he chuckled as I made my way back over to him. I rolled my eyes and took a seat on a pool chair, leaning back as the sun warmed my face.

"A drink for the lady," Matt smirked, handing me a glass filled to the brim with a bright liquid.

"Thanks," I chewed my bottom lip, that unsettling feeling running through my body as Matt's eyes raked my body several times, "What'd you make?"

His gaze was unwavering, "Taste it."

I hesitated for a moment, but knew that he'd only end up guilting me with his 'trust me' line, so I brought the glass to my lips. My eyes quickly fluttered shut as the tangy taste of pineapple flooded my senses. I couldn't hide the smile that spread across my face as a stinging sensation burned its way through the back of my throat, the icy taste of Smirnoff registering to my senses.

I groaned, "Wow, that's good."

"I figured you'd like it."

I made a noise of agreement, "You figure a lot about me."

Matt's rumble of laughter met my ears as I downed the rest of the drink and stretched my arms over my head. I'd already managed to toss my hair into a bun, so I knew that I was on my way to relaxing and getting my tan on. Pushing my sunglasses down over my eyes, I settled in the seat and tilted my chin towards the sun.

"BOO!"

With a yelp, I jerked up to see Lyndsey grinning widely at me. I threw her a nasty look, pointing to my ribs, which were just starting to throb in protest of my sudden movements.

Matt shook his head, "Your ribs are never gonna heal."

"You're telling me," I muttered grumpily, attempting to keep my face straight as Lyndsey covered my face in pestering kisses, "Gah, stop it! I'm still mad at you for nearly making my ribs explode!"

"Forgive me? Pleeeease?"

Dammit. She knew I couldn't handle people pouting like that at me.

I huffed, crossing my arms over my chest, "Fine. Now get off."

She giggled, "So grumpy, little grumpypants!"

Was she high? She was mighty chipper.

I watched as Lyndsey skipped off, tackling Brian straight into the pool. Cocking an eyebrow, I turned to Matt, who simply shrugged his shoulders in response. With a sigh, I reached over and snagged his drink off the table, watching as he sent me an unpleasant scowl. I smirked and put the drink to my lips, cool beer sliding down the back of my throat.

"CANNONBALL, MOTHERFUCKER!"

Lyndsey's scream ripped through the air as I once again shot up, just as a body plummeted into the pool, causing a huge splash of water. Brian's laughter could be heard as Lyndsey resurfaced, sputtering violently and looking like a drowned cat.

"Johnny!" she glared furiously, looking on with anger as the smaller man resurfaced and swam away from her, teetering with laughter. I snorted as he swam as fast as his little body would let him to the edge of the pool, Lyndsey hot on his heels.

"Hey, you two," Zacky smiled, cigarette in between his lips and an arm around a girl with dark hair. She had a ring going through her nose just as Zacky did, but her eyes were dark unlike Zacky's bright ones. I offered her a smile as Zacky continued, "Matt, Britt, this is Raychel. Baby, Matt and Britt."

"Nice to meet you," I smiled, leaning over just the slightest bit so that I could offer her a light hug. She returned it just as lightly, and I was sure that Zacky had told her beforehand about my rib situation. Hell, after the way my face had been plastered all over the TV, I was sure she already knew who I was.

Zacky and Matt moved a few feet away and started a conversation of their own, leaving Raychel and I by ourselves. I wasn't quite sure what they were talking about, but I figured that it gave me the perfect opportunity to get to know the dark haired girl in front of me.

Turning to Raychel, I patted the chair next to me, "Come sit."

She smiled and did just that, leaning back on the plastic chair, "So, how do you know everyone?"

"Lyndsey is dating Brian and she's a good friend of mine," I replied with a playful roll of my eyes, "Where she goes, I go, so I ended up meeting the others. You and Zacky are together, I'm guessing?"

I grinned as Raychel's cheeks tinted red, "Y-yeah. We've been seeing each other for a few months, but only decided to make it official recently."

"Congratulations," I nodded, offering her a fist-bump, "I'm sure that's extremely exciting."

"He's a great guy," she sighed softly, looking up towards the sky with a dreamy expression. I felt a tug at my heart. It hadn't been very long since I'd used to wear that expression on my face.

"That's so nice," I replied quietly, thanking the heavens for the shades that hid my eyes, "I wish you guys the best. He seems like a really nice guy from what I've seen."

That had her grinning widely, "He really is. What about you?"

"Me?" I stammered, a little befuddled by what she meant, "What about me?"

"Aren't you and Matt together?"

I couldn't help it then. The question was so unexpected and out there that I completely burst into laughter. Where on Earth would she get an idea like that? Matt was a nice guy, but we weren't compatible in the least. He was the big, bulky, intimidating guy with tattoos and I was the small, short-tempered girl covered in bright colors and designer clothes. Polar opposites.

"Britt, what the fuck are you doing?" I heard Matt's voice above me, but I couldn't refrain from laughing as I clutched at my ribs, "You're gonna crack your ribs even further!"

"Sure seems to me like you are," Raychel concluded slyly, eyeing me carefully as Matt ambled over and sat by my feet.

"It's nothing like that, believe me," I giggled in Raychel's direction, ignoring Matt's grunts of protest as I continued to laugh.

"What is?" he demanded, looking between the two of us with a frustrated expression. I shook my head and shooed him away, struggling to regain my composure as Matt rolled his eyes, "Don't say I didn't warn you when you crack something else."

With that, he and Zacky went back to their conversation over on the patio, opting to sit at the glass table where there was no doubt an ashtray with Zacky’s name on it. I watched as Matt leaned back into his chair, taking a long drink of his beer as Zacky began telling him something.

Turning back to Raychel, I caught her smirking, ”Mmhmm”.

I ignored her comment and simply smiled as I made conversation. I found it strange that she’d pegged Matt and I for a couple and had still seemed unconvinced when I’d corrected her. We weren’t anything alike. I didn’t know him well enough. Sure, he was attractive – all of Lyndsey’s friends were attractive in some way or another. But I still didn’t know much about any of them, Matt included.

They were each different from one another.

Jimmy was the outspoken one, always coming up with an awkward joke to keep everyone entertained. However, he noticed things that your average person would miss. When he took Lynds and I out for ice cream the other day, the cashier had tried to cheat him out of a couple of dollars. He could look at the change in his hand and tell that not only was a dollar missing, but a couple of nickels and dimes were, too. The cahsier had tried to lie right to his face but he’d picked her apart and used a rather impressive method of reverse psychology to get the truth out of her.

Zacky was the quiet one. He was quieter than Matt, even. He hung back and observed most of the time, though he wasn’t antisocial by any means. It was clear that he wasn’t one for being the center of attention, yet he rendered his opinion when he saw fit. He tended to be the one to sense when I was in a mood or when Lyndsey was close to having an emotional moment. His soft voice, accompanied by a lisp was the perfect remedy when someone was upset.

Then there was Johnny. In a sense, he was wild like Jimmy. He was quite the prankster and was full of fun and laughter. He got picked on a lot by the guys because he was significantly smaller, but he could hold his own. For someone only a couple of inches taller than my five foot two stature, he was incredibly strong. He was fast, too. I’d witnessed his agility skills firsthand when Brian had tried to chase him down after he’d tackled Brian into the pool. None of the guys could catch him.

Brian was a sweet guy. I could see why Lynds was so crazy about him. He was down to earth despite his designer wardrobe and lavish lifestyle. There wasn’t a person he couldn’t get along with, as he was quite the charming smooth talker. On the other hand, it wasn’t wise to be fooled by the easy going personality. Some random guy had gotten a little too fresh with Lyndsey the other day, and when he didn’t back off like Lyndsey had warned him too, Brian had decked him clear across the face. Brother man had been knocked unconscious with one fucking hit. Damn, had that man become my hero.

And then there was Matt. He was the hardest to read out of the whole bunch. At times, he was quiet. He possessed Zacky’s observation skills, and Jimmy’s impressive attention to detail. Like Johnny, he was quick. His reflex skills proved to be quite refreshing when I’d once tripped over Shadow’s doggie toy and nearly broken my neck. Before I could even think about falling, he’d come out of nowhere and caught me. Then, he had Brian’s brute strength. I knew that came from the anger issues, though, as I was a victim of the same problem. He was calm when he needed to be, but could easily put on that intimidating scowl and command anything of anyone.

But aside from the things I’d picked up from psychoanalyzing my new friends, I truly knew nothing about them. Where they were from, or who their families were. Their favorite hobbies and what they enjoyed doing in their spare time. Where they worked or what they did for a living. Why people’s faces either lit up or darkened whenever Lyndsey or I mentioned their names whenever we arrived for dinner reservations at local restaurants.

“Britt?”

Snapping out of my wandering thoughts, I smiled as Johnny appeared by my side, “What’s up?”

“We’ve been calling your name for a couple of minutes, you know,” he grinned playfully, gently nudging my side with a wet, tattooed arm.

I blinked in surprise, “Oh? What for?”

“To come in the water,” he rolled his eyes as though the answer were obvious, “It might help your pain threshold out a bit if you’re in there.”

I smiled at his thoughtfulness and lightly patted his arm, “Okay, I’m in.”

“WOO, YEAH!” came Jimmy’s screech from the pool, “GIMME THAT CHOCOLATE FEVER-OW!”

No doubt either Matt or Brian had hit him for his fresh little comment. I giggled and pushed myself off the chair, following behind Johnny as he jumped into the pool. I did the same and sighed as I resurfaced, the cool water soothing my aching skin. It helped the warm, inflamed sensation ebb away from my skin, but the actual throbbing of my ribs continued – as expected.

“We never said it’d completely heal you,” Zacky smirked, splashing me with some water from a few feet away. I rolled my eyes in response.

I might not have known much about my new friends, but they sure seemed to know me very well.