"Just say it," I said.
"Say what?" She said.
"Just say you're scared, you're alone, and you need help. Just say it," I said.
"Fuck you!" She said.
"Wrong answer," I said and I slapped her. Hard too. She was lucky I was being so nice. A younger Dylan might have beat her to death with her own gun. If she had hit any of my girls, I would have.
"Fuck you, you fucking fuck!" She said. She struggled and struggled, but it did nothing.
"Wrong answer," I said and slapped her again, but the other way.
"What do you want from me!" She finally started to tear up. She was getting ready to burst.
"I want you to admit you're not cool, you're not bad, you're not hard. You're a sad pathetic little girl. You may be of legal age, but that doesn't make you an adult. An adult thinks of others instead of only themselves. An adult doesn't endanger innocents because of their selfishness," I said.
