DAY EIGHT 7:40AM

Sugarcoating 


Her eyes were swelling shut so she couldn't see the next fist. It connected to her temple again, a ring, had looked like a high school ring she thought, took another chuck of flesh off her face. 

I'm dying, she thought. Maybe I can finally find peace.  

At least she could still hear clear as a bell out of her left ear; her right ear was caked over with blood.  

"I don't get it," the one called Scorpio said. He was the one with the ring. "Why are we working her over? She's just a girl for christ sake."  

"Getting soft in your old age are we, Scorp," the other, named Quip, chided his partner. "We just follow orders. Do what needs to be done. No questions."  

"But this ain't right," Scorpio said. She could hear the hint of disgust in his voice. "She's just a kid."  

"Maybe you want to be the one sitting there getting the facial reconstruction," Quip told his partner.  

Mayganne had seen a lot in her 17 years of life. She was born in the lower slums in what she gathered was her Prime Version before the realities began to blur. She had fought her way against the stereotypical downfall that her mother had gone through. There was no way that she wanted to end up like her mother. In fact, she was sort of glad that this was quite the distance away from her mother's path.  

"Well, I ain't doing what they want to do to her next," Scorpio said; his voice showed that little quiver in a man's voice when he had to face the tough decisions. "I draw the limit at that. No friggin' way man."  

"Man, you're wimping out," Quip scolded his partner. "Can't you wrap it around your mind that this girl is..."  

There was a sound of a window shattering in another room.