"You look in pretty bad shape, boy."
As I stood there with Cindy beside me, trying not to put too much weight on her arm, Marlon approached. His eyes moved over me from head to toe, the bruises on my face, the dried blood near my ears, the torn clothes barely covering the bandages around my ribs.
"Yeah," I replied shortly.
"Looks like you got yourself beaten up pretty badly," he added.
"Is that the first thing you tell him?" Cindy shot back, glaring at him.
Marlon looked toward her, then let out a low chuckle.
"No. I'm more surprised he made it out alive." His expression softened slightly as he looked back at me. "You're quite tough, aren't you?"
"Not really," I said quietly.
The answer came out before I could stop it.
I was far from tough.
