Wronged

• 8 •

- Anna's POV -

Fighting to me is more than just throwing fists and tossing kicks to the groin and shoving knees into guts. It represents strength and symbolizes independence. You know how to take care of yourself, and others (violently) if needed.

When the services told me that they wanted me to start self-defense training, I was just angry. For one, I don't like taking orders from people. And two, I wasn't exactly the athletic type after being locked in a basement for most of my childhood. I didn't even know what a basketball was when psychiatrists asked me.

It didn't take them long to realize I was just mentally damaged, sending me off to this mental health institution in Florida. It took a year to "heal" me, but I was never really healed.

Actually, all I did was watch the behavior of the others that got to leave, and then manipulated my own actions to sort of mimic theirs. I wanted out, so I acted sane. Truth is, I'm still pretty messed up. Bad.

Anyway, after I got out of the institution, I was required to go to training. After training, I was required to workout at least twice a week, which is why I am currently in the gym, doing all sorts of planks.

My whole body shakes, and I release a groan, collapsing in relief when the timer runs out of the three minute mark. I roll over on my back, breathing hard with one arm laid across my forehead.

Someone chuckles next to me. "Aiden picked a strong one."

I flinch and sit up, eyes locking into the direction of the voice. I roll my eyes when I see its Nico standing above me, leaning against the wall. He's dressed in basketball shorts, no shirt, and has on a pair of sneakers. Bluetooth headphones rest around his neck. There's no sweat coated on any area of him, so he either is being lazy and not doing much, or has just arrived.

I want to tell him to piss off, ask how he found me, ask why he's talking to me, and also inform him that Aiden did not simply "pick" me. If he had the option, I definitely wouldn't be the first choice. I probably wouldn't even make the top ten.

"What are you doing here...and how do you have such killer abs?" Nico asks when I don't greet him, eyebrows risen in shock.

I roll my silver orbs again and stand, wincing as I do so. I went a bit rigorous on my workout today, trying to forget about the fact that my tattoo isn't burning anymore. I was trying to distract myself from the pain thirty-five hours ago. Now I'm just doing the exact opposite.

"What are you doing here?" I counter, ignoring his comment about my torso. I wasn't embarrassed or anything, since I know Hayley and Nico are meant for each other.

He gestures around to the gym. "I came here to work out, obviously. But then I saw you, the new shiny toy...and also my pal's soul-"

"Don't even say it," I growl, stopping him from using the term. I'm not - and will probably never be - ready to accept the reality of this situation.

"What? Soulmate?" Nico asks, giving me a quizzical look. "Why not?"

"Because."

He chuckles, seemingly amused. "I can see why the universe has paired you together."

I cross my arms. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means that you're both stubborn as hell and as guarded as the Krusty Krab's secret formula," he laughs.

I roll my eyes. "I don't like people."