Chapter Six

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Ten minutes later I was treating the wounds Helena had given Sean in his bathroom.



                “This is becoming a habit,” I sighed as I put a bandage on his arm. “Do you two fight every day?”



                “Not really,” he said. “Other than practice. Will you please tell me where you learned how to fight like that now?”



                “My parents thought I needed to know how to protect myself sense I have always been ‘a small fragile girl,’” Is aid in a mock tone of my dad. “So as long as I can remember I have been in karate and self defense classes.”



                “Well you were amazing,” he said softly.



                I was now cleaning the cut on his cheek. I looked over to his eyes. He had this look that made my heart rate rise. “Thank you,” I said quickly and went back to cleaning.



                “I never thought I would see anyone beat Helena before.”



                “I didn’t beat her.”



                He chuckled. “If your ankle wasn’t hurt you would have. How is it?” he asked for the millionth time.



                “It’s fine, barely notice it,” I replied for the millionth time. “Okay those two are done.”



                “Now the big one,” he groaned. Sean pulled off his bloody shirt and threw it in the sink.



I held my breath. It’s not that he had a six pack (he almost did though) or anything like that, but he wasn’t that bad looking. Trying, and failing, not to think about it I started cleaning the blood off his skin. “It’s not a big cut,” I informed him. “It just an abdomen wound, which explains all the blood.”



                “How do you know so much about cuts and healing people and such?” he asked.



                “My parents,” I answered. “Again, they thought this was the kind of stuff I should know.”



                “Hmmm. That’s interesting. Did you take a class?”



                “Yes, a few and my parents taught some of it to me,” I said getting a bandage ready.



                Sean was quiet for a minute. “It’s like they thought something bad was going to happen to you.”



                I shrugged. “I don’t know I don’t talk to them much.”



                “What are they like?” he asked.



                “Annoying,” I replied now cleaning the wound with Hydrogen peroxide.

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