Frida's chest tightened, but rather than her flight response kicking in - which, she realized moments later, wasn't really an option - she felt her free hand ball up into a fist. She wasn't the violent type, but being overwhelmed like this, with her brother in her face, threatening her, made her actively fight the instinct to pop him one.
"I'm not arguing. I'm telling you," she said , shrinking back into herself, the book pressed between her hand and her hip. "It's not yours. You can't have it." A grave mistake if she'd ever made one, but she'd definitely put it in her "Top Five Bravest Moments" if she was foolish enough to start a diary after this.
"I'm not arguing. I'm telling you," she said , shrinking back into herself, the book pressed between her hand and her hip. "It's not yours. You can't have it." A grave mistake if she'd ever made one, but she'd definitely put it in her "Top Five Bravest Moments" if she was foolish enough to start a diary after this.
— set by mj —