Aysen quickly surveyed the small, picturesque town of Gig Harbor, and asked several people if they had seen Sora. Most gave him a sad shake; heck, most of them didn’t even know her!
Aysen stumbled onto a blond girl; she was fat, and had a considerable amount of makeup on. He recognized her as the one he had stopped from hitting Sora.
Luckily, she didn’t seem to remember him.
“Well, hello there, handsome!” she said, smiling. Aysen didn’t smile back.
“Do you have any idea where Sora could be?” he asked, blunt and to the point. The girl’s beady eyes widened, and then they narrowed again. She clenched her chubby fists.
“Why would I be concerned about that idiot?” she huffed. “She’s oh so fragile.” The girl mocked.
“With all her fears and all,” she pouted.
“What fears?” Aysen was a little paler, if that was even possible.
“Those stupid foster parents of hers told us it was because of us. Isolo-whatever, they said,” she snorted.
“Isolophobia,” Aysen said, quietly.
“Yeah, that was it. Serves her right, wench.”