ᑕᕼᗩᑭTEᖇ 1; nєvєr

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" come on tor!", Dylan pleads from across the 2 foot table. We had been sitting in Starbucks for over an hour , as Dylan tries to convince me to do the in thinkable. We stare each other down and I slowly lift my frappé to my lips. "Nope", I say popping the "p". "Not a chance. "

"But-", she starts to say yet I cut her off

"No buts !", I snap , startling both of us . I soften my tone and say the next part as calmly as I could.

" I can't go back. ", I say in a shaky breath. "I could've died! don't you remember?!"

ʄƖąʂɧცąçƙ~ we had been practicing- my in my usual point flyer position with Dylan flying to my right and Kristen to my left. We were about to do a kick double down. I did it perfectly except for one thing- I went side ways. I crashed onto the fuzzy yet hard mats , breaking both my wrist and collar bone. I had a sever concussion. It's been nearly 3 years since the accident when I was 14.

"Fine ", Dylan says. But I know that look . this isn't over.

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