“The bullets?” He motioned to the pile of empty cartridges on his table. “Load them up. If you can figure out how.” I gathered the bullets and the cartridges and returned to the bed, kicking off my boots and sitting cross-legged. I smoothed out the dark comforter so the boxes wouldn’t spill over. I opened one. The bullet heads were a gray plastic material. I held one up between my fingers. “I haven’t seen these.”--Thief
(Be him/her?) I sat on the sidewalk, the left side of my face was beaten up. It had bruises, scrapes, and scratches all along my skin. You hated seeing me hurt or me still fighting. "You need to stop this Alec! Your arm is going to need stitches!" You hold my arm and examine a cut that was pretty deep and wide, the source where the most blood had came from. "I'm fine...it's no big deal." I shrug as I try to stay balanced sitting down.