Casualties

‘I’m sorry.’ I looked at Conor’s side profile through the blue haze of cigarette smoke. ‘For what?’ Conor asked. ‘You and Eimile…’ I didn’t expect his relationship would be the first casualty in the war between me and Sarah. He swore again. ‘Not your fault. It was bound to happen sooner or later.’ He glanced at me. ‘How’s your face? I can drop you off at a clinic.’ I touched my swollen cheek. ‘I’m fine. It looks worse than it actually is.’ ‘You are bleeding,’ he pointed out. ‘That woman has nails like daggers. And she’s fucking crazy. We should probably get you checked for rabies.’ I leaned back against the leather seat and stared at the ceiling. ‘Not her fault.’ ‘You are talking crazy, like her.’ Conor snorted. ‘She smacked you so hard it drew blood. Which reminds me, what the hell happened to you? Why didn’t you fight back? You used to be Amiyah the Hun. The neighbourhood kids feared you more than the bogeyman.’ I punched him on the arm. ‘You barged in before I could react.’ Besides,