Twenty-One-Fifty

Sixteen

     Mike blinks, not answering her for a minute. 

     "Well?" She asks, her emerald eyes peering at him with curiosity. And more than a little worry as well. He chews his lip, meeting her eyes and not looking at the scar.

     "I'm wondering how you got out." A complete lie. He was really wondering when the last time she had let someone in was, or the last time she had seen another person. But he did suppose that this question was a good one, so long as she could answer it.

     "I..." Zoe sighs. "Do you really want to know?"

     "Well, yeah." Mike nods, then hesitates. She seemed uncomfortable about the subject. "You don't have to if you don't want to."

     "It's really not a big deal," the girl responds. She looks down at her hands, then adjusts the bandana around her face again, concealing the scar. "I...convinced a guard to let me go, telling him to just open the door so he could get in...with me. The door could be blackened, you see. I was only nine, I didn't quite see the implications of what I was saying. He opened the door, unhandcuffed me, not thinking. So I stole his keys, managed a handcuff around his wrist, and made a run for it.

     "I was almost caught again. But I managed to evade everyone and get out. That led me a few miles away from here. Over the years I've gotten more stuff and made myself indestructible. Even my heart was closed to friends."

     Mike can't help a smirk. "And then..?"

     "And then you came along, like the jerk you are," Zoe says, rolling her eyes.