The doctor's words when I was discharged hit me like a wall: one more serious blow to that area and I'd never walk again. No one on earth could fix it.
My father's voice on the phone moments ago echoed in my head.
I clenched my teeth, looked up at Brent, and forced the words out through the shaking.
"I was wr—"
He cut me off before I could finish.
"You want to apologize?! Too late!"
His eyes were vicious.
"Maya, I let you run wild for eight years. Today I'm putting you back in your place."
He glanced behind him. Dozens of water guns swung toward me in unison.
The jets hit all at once, slamming into my face and body like whips.
The blast knocked me flat.
Brent grabbed Gloria's hand, aimed the water gun she was holding straight at my face, and water hammered up into my nose and ears, a vicious burning sting that set everything on fire at once.
I tried to get up, but the pressure blurred my vision completely.
I didn't even have the strength to lift my head. All I could do was lie there while the freezing jets slammed into me, every impact tearing through me under all that force.
Gloria watched me floundering and let out peal after peal of shrill laughter.