30 Things I Wish I Told You

11 - I Was Allergic to Dogs

We were in the car for around 30 minutes. Your nose stopped bleeding, the bruises on my neck were probably  starting to show and the sky was slowly loosing its bright blue color.

"Bryson, I can't go with you," I sighed, but my tone left a lot of space for discussion, as even I was unsure of what I wanted to do.

"It's not something that's up for discussion," you didn't even look at me.

"Okay, listen here you idiot," I turned around, putting my right leg up on the seat so that I was fully facing you, "I don't know who you think you are, but I wouldn't let Cher talk to me like that, let alone some random little British boy I met two seconds ago."

"You tell him, girl!" I heard a woman's voice with a Texan accent cheer me on from the front of the car, catching me off guard. I had no idea that someone could hear us, as there was a privacy divider between the back seats and the front ones.

"That's Adele, my personal driver," you said, probably seeing the surprise on my face.

"Nice to meet you sweetheart, it sure was time Bryby found someone to put him in his place!" I heard her shout back and I recognised the voice from the phone call.

"Bryby?" I tried to contain my laughter.

"Adele!! I told you to stop calling me that!"

"Sure thing, CryBryby."

"Enough!" you shouted and I laughed, "Anyhow, you like Cher, huh?"

"It was just a really long phase," I fought back a smile, calming down.

"Aha, sure," you smirked, ruffling up your hair, "Either way, I didn't mean to sound like a jerk. I don't want to boss you around, but it's a question of safety kitten."

I hated the fact that the nickname that every now and again came from your lips had such a strong impact on me.

Then it came to me.

"I'll stay with Anya."

"No, you won't," your head snapped towards me.

I raised an eyebrow at you.

You sighed, "What I meant is - first of all - Anya won't be able to defend you if Sandra pays you another visit, and second - she already has some stuff to deal with."

"What do you-"

"Family issues," you answered my question, "I wouldn't recommend bringing it up, she doesn't like to talk about it."

I didn't know Anya had family issues, but then again, she never really mentioned her family to me so it all made sense in my head.

"So how do you know her?" I turned back to sit normally.

"Who? Anya?"

"No, Sandra."

"It's a really long story, I don't want to-"

"We have time," I stated the obvious. You sighed. I thought that there was definitely something else, besides it being long that made you not want to talk about it, "And you owe me an explanation."

"You're right, but Faye... I don't know...

"So, you probably know that Sandra's father is dead," you said and I nodded - I met Max's family a long time ago, "But there's a story behind it. Her father was a lawyer - a very good one, so he worked on many international cases.

For his last case, he was supposed to go against this English lady named Naomi, whose wealthy husband, with whom she'd lived with for one year, was found dead in her house. Sandra's father was supposed to prove that Naomi killed him, but Naomi... she had a child. A little girl. The poor thing was also autistic. Not that she's poor because she's autistic - autistic people, if they are cared for... I think that they can have a good life. It's just that many other people don't understand how such a different method of living can be enough for someone," you sighed, looking somewhere into the distance.