Hey. This is my new story. Lab rats elite force btw. It is kind of in poem form, but not as much as the last.
His arm hurt.
His chest hurt in a weird way.
His cut on his arm wouldn't stop bleeding.
Nobody on the team could understand it.
He didn't know why.
He had rescued a girl.
His sleeve was torn.
The car exploded and it cut him.
But it had been an hour and it wouldn't stop bleeding.
Ronan had punched him in the chest.
It hurt a lot now.
They finished the mission.
They sped back to the penthouse.
Douglas couldn't figure it out.
He went to find Douglas.
He told him that his chest hurt.
He had only been punched once, and not that hard.
Douglas paled.
He asked if the cut still bled.
It did.
The whole bandage was red.
Hemophilia.
Severe.
No.
More.
Missions.
Death.
He wasn't a thin piece of glass.
They treated him as if he would shatter in a second.
How was he different from them?
It was hardly a matter.
It was only.
Only.
Blood.