Ophelia Moon is a regular girl.
She's smart, popular and a little bit of a rebel. When you don't have a father and your relationship with your mother is nonexistent, a rebellious streak is normal, right?
But what appears to be, is often not how it...
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Ophelia's POV
I turn onto my right when I feel the sun peeking in through the window and immediately regret it. The pain from my bruised rib makes me curl up into a ball, and I bury my face in a pillow and let out a muffled scream.
"Drama queen." I hear Omar snort as he comes out of my en-suite bathroom and picks out a tee-shirt from the mountain of clothes on my couch. I really needed to put them away and clean my room. I would have done it last night, had Omar not ended up bruising, if not breaking, my ribs.
I throw a pillow at him and scowl when he catches it effortlessly.
"Don't you have school?" he chuckles. I make a face at him before rising from my bed to start getting ready. I had a couple of bruises that needed to be concealed with makeup.
I walk past Omar, shoving him in the shoulder which doesn't move him at all but almost makes me pass out from the pain. Again.
"Woah, woah, steady." he says, his eyebrows raised and concern shining in his deep brown eyes. "Show me where it hurts."
I wordlessly pull at the base of my tee, raising it over my head and letting it drop on the floor.
Omar doesn't spare a single glance at my exposed chest and carefully touches the ugly blue bruise on my side.
I hiss in pain before shutting my mouth again. With him so close he'd smell my horrible morning breath.
"Not broken," he declares after examination, his fingers still touching my exposed stomach. "Definitely bruised though. Take a few painkillers."
As if I wouldn't down a couple as soon as I get to my bathroom.
I nod before stepping past him and entering the bathroom. I pop four Advils and close the cabinet to look at my reflection in the mirror.
I tug at the tie to let my knotted hair fall past my shoulders. My dull green eyes, underlined by dark circles land on the cut I got on Friday night in the Mock Combat. It had been against a new recruit. She shouldn't have been able to land a single blow on me, much less, cut me with her pocket knife.
I brush my teeth, then turn the shower on and let the warm water soothe my sore muscles.
Omar had been relentless the remaining weekend which resulted in a bruised rib when he fought me himself last night after I was ready to collapse onto my bed, exhausted from the intense training. A round kick from him was enough to do the damage.
I was his mentee and even though I had won the fight as I was supposed to with the newbie, the fact that a Year 1 could land a single blow on a Year 4, reflected badly on me and by association, on Omar.
Omar was usually a calm, laid back person. He didn't care if I ever talked back to him or called him out for something. According to my peers, most of the other mentors were pretty anal about it. on the contrary, Omar often teased me for my smart mouth.
