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Young Adult (18-35)Accents
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from All you Zombies by Robert A. Heinlein. The unmarried mother was a man 25 years old, no taller than I am. Child is features and a touchy temper. I didn't like his looks. I never had. But he was a land I was here to recruit. He was my boy. I gave him my best barkeep smile. Maybe I'm too critical. He wasn't swish. His nickname came from what he always said when some nosy type asked him his line. I am an unmarried mother. If he felt less than murderous, he would add at four cents a word, I write confession stories. If he felt nasty, he would wait for somebody to make something of it. He had a lethal style of infighting like a female cop. One reason I wanted him, not the only one he had a load on, and his face showed that he despised people more than usual. Silently, I poured a double shot of old underwear and left the bottle. He drank it poured another. I wiped the bar top. How's the unmarried mother racket? His fingers tightened on the glass and he seemed about to throw it at me. I felt for the sap under the bar in temporal manipulation. You trying to figure everything. But there are so many factors that you never take needless risks. And I saw him relax. That tiny amount they teach you to watch for in the bureau's training school. Sorry, I said, just asking, How's business make it? How's the weather? He looked sour. Business is okay. I write them. They print him. I eat. I poured myself. One lean toward him. Matter of fact, I said, You write a nice stick. I've sampled a few. You have an amazingly sure touch with woman's angle. It was a slip I had to risk. He never admitted what pin names he used, but he was boiled enough to pick up on Lee the last woman's angle. He repeated with a snowboard. Yeah, I know the woman's angle. I should So I said doubtfully sisters. No, you wouldn't believe me if I told you. No. Now I said mildly. Bartenders and psychiatrists learned that nothing is stranger than truth. Why, son, if you heard the stories I dio well, you'd make yourself rich. Incredible. You don't know an incredible means, so nothing astonishes me. I've always heard worse. He snorted again. Well, you bet the rest of the bottle I'm better. Full bottle. I placed one on the bar from the Spectrum Book Series Book Three Crystallization by Samantha Meena Today I decided to confront him. You wanted to speak with me, Captain Patrick Ceasar. Amber now stood in my door frame. Yes. Close the door and sit down. He obeyed. I leaned forward. The officer. I wanted to ask if there's anything troubling you. Anything you'd like to tell me in confidence? His answer was immediate. No, sir. There's nothing I can help you with. No, sir. My fingers drum the desk. I'm going to ask you one last time, soldier. He squared his John, folded his massive arms. You've been calling out in your sleep. Nine pressed. Your bunkmates have been complaining. He raised a copper brow. I wasn't aware, sir. Really? He shrugged though a pink twins touched his bronze cheeks. It's just dreams, sir. Recurring if it matters. Yes, sir. Of course it matters. Corporatists in Ah, spectral world Dreams could be visions. Especially if there re occurring. These aren't vision, sir. When I wake up, I can hardly remember a thing visions air clear, lifelike. All I can remember about these nightmares is how they made me feel and who was with me. How did they make you feeling? Who was with you and bricks squirmed. Captain, Is this really necessary? Yes. Why, sir? Because if you're not having visions, recurring nightmares may indicate PTSD. I don't have PTSD. He ground you're not a medicine man. I'm just stressed. That doesn't mean I have some mental illness. Watch your tone when addressing your superior. Nice snap. We need to get to the bottom of this because whatever is going on with you, it's impacting your performance at sea. I'm not dismissing you until you answer me fine. He inhaled. I felt confused. By what? Like I said, sir, I can't recall any detail. Just anger, Rage. Even then fear. I was both terrified and glad at the same time. The pleasure was sickening. Really? So I hated myself. I grew guilty. I couldn't stand it. Then I woke up. Who was with you? What? You said You remember who you were way. He shifted only her face. Nothing else. Not where we were or what we were doing. Her. Of course, and I was only one her. Who could have such an impact on Amber? His late sister. Was it crimson? I asked voice gentler AM. Brick and his sister were very close. He took her death badly. He looked away. Competence, He didn't speak from the subject. And the scientist by Montana stare. I slammed my hand a few times on the scanner, frantically trying to shut the door. But of course, that doesn't help close. Ah, yell, you useless piece of I stopped when I noticed the subject watching me. She's still on the floor, shaking and fear I wasn't yelling at you. A matter the door won't close. The system's rebooting. She's holding her arm close to her. I can see bruises already forming, where I grabbed her. Try to override the code again, to no avail. I want this to be over. Um, really sorry, she whimpers. It didn't mean to make you mad. Just wanted to help. It's on if I could be more like her. She We're not my daughter, I say, trying to keep my voice steady. Don't ever try to be her. She suddenly gas and covers her mouth with her hand. What I mutter you, You're crying. She whispers. I quickly put my hand over my face and find tears. Uh, this isn't what I wanted. Ducked behind the doorway and hit the scanner again. Close. Please Close. Have to leave clothes. Another message pops up on the screen. Estimated time remaining. 20 minutes. 20 minutes. I can't do this. I lean back on the doorframe and slide down to the floor. I run my hands through my hair. What was I thinking? Letting her out again? What is wrong with me? Look at this mess is lead to Are you Are you okay? I hear her *** softly. I glanced to the side to see her standing in the doorway. Stay in your room. A mutter. Ignoring her question, she takes a step back into her room. I'm really sorry, she whispers. It didn't mean to hurt you. Be quiet. I snap. She defensively takes another step back. I saw him move around to sit in the doorway. She sits down on the floor a few feet away from me. She keeps her head down and stares at her hands. I noticed the bruises on her arm are darker now. Come here. I wanna look at your arm. She gives me a distrustful looking backs away. Are you really going to be difficult right now? She quickly shakes her head and slowly, inches towards May, keeping her arm close. I hold out my hand and she hesitantly gives me hers. I turned her arm over to examine the injury. Considering the swelling, I may have bruised the bone too. It really hurts, she says quietly. He'll be fine in a few days, I retort, letting go of her hand. You didn't have to hurt me. You weren't listening to me. All right. Her voice trails off. I'm sorry. Don't I sigh? I hate this. I want to leave. I should have never let you outside a mutter standing up in checking the scanner.