“Are you satisfied with the mess you’ve created out of me?”
"Am I satisfied with the mess I created out of you? What kind of question is that!?” It’d struck a chord with her more than she expected it to. Maybe she was just tired of it. “You weren’t the only one who didn’t want to fight. Sacrifices have to be made sometimes. Playing nice and letting people walk all over you isn’t an option! Why don’t you get that?”
“As for a mess, you’re breathing, alive and able to open your mouth to speak I think you’re a lot better off than some.” She snapped, seeing him again brought up quite the load of memories. The ones she couldn’t save, and the ones that had fought so valiantly that they paid the ultimate price. and here was this....punk who had the nerve to act as if she was the only one responsible. She knew when to take the blame and she would admit, she was at fault in some cases. But she was also following orders just as they were.
