Ever since I was a little girl I've always been a bit waspish when it comes to my possessions being touched without my permission, it was usually bad with my books. I saw them as my little retreats to worlds unknown, adventures to rescue me from the boring monotony of having to deal with petty bullies that couldn't stand the thought that someone was better than them at something. Over time I learned to just take care of my things and I'd never have a repeat of when Rebecca tore a page on one of my books and ended up with glass shards in her eyes from a skylight in the library breaking. Quite the unfortunate accident, especially considering she went blind and was therefore unable to read after, I still swear up and down to this day that it wasn't me even though I know it was. I'm not even sorry, she got what was coming to her disrespecting my space like that. Okay, maybe I regret her going blind but In my defence, I was nine and wanted to hurt her for hurting my soul, how was I to know that she would try to rub the shards out and shred her cornea and most of her sclera?