The moment she left the office, I sat back on my seat and tightened my hold on the paperweight kept on the side.
Fuck! Just what I needed, a f*****g distraction. I knew she was lying. She did not get into a fight, the bruises were not fresh or looked as if someone would beat her at school and she won't be rushed to the medical room.
It looked as if she was immune to the bruises and it did not matter to her. Whoever her father was, I still felt my heart not being at ease as her hollow eyes and ugly bruises flashed through my eyes.
She looked so much like an angel, but I knew she wasn't. How can a devil's child be an angel?
I hated myself for feeling for her. I just f*****g met her yesterday for f**k's sake.
I let it go. It was already close to midnight and I knew she'd have clocke
