“I'LL KILL YOU!” There's nothing more in this whole world I want right now than to punch your face in, and I sure as hell am going to die before I let the chance slip past me again. You f*****g son of a b***h, I can't believe you did that to me. Me. You said you loved me! Not that I should really have ever trusted you in the first place.
I lunge for you, ready to beat the s**t smirk- the one I once thought so handsome- off your face before you can even and blink, but there's two already on me, trying to take away what's mine. I'm kicking and screaming and shouting and yelling and causing the biggest commotion this school's seen since the shooting three years back.
“Damn it, you son of a b***h, I'll tear your throat out!” I kick and fight and get my way out and someone hits me in the back of the head and I'm seeing stars and tasting blood, but that's what I get for my own brand of love unconditional. It's obvious they'll win- one pissed-gone-crazy seventeen year old never took down five (or maybe five hundred?) grown men with more sure to come before, and while there's a first time for everything, I doubt this is it. And in the midst of it all you and your f*****g smirk is shining through my red goggles, a beacon in the night. Like something holy. (Or maybe cursed.)
And I'm biting and kicking and my blood and shouts are mixing with theirs and it's over. Everything's quiet except for our heavy (labored? I think I heard a few bones crack, somewhere) breathing. I'm pinned to the floor, cold steel pushing against the nape of my neck. There's a clatter of metal-on-metal and two clicks as my Miranda Rights are being read. (Who the f**k is Miranda?)
“Damn it, damn it, damn it! You son of a b***h, I swear I'll kill you!” I'm screaming, hoping to be heard over the deafening silence in the hall.
My shouts give way to sobs as they drag me away from the scene, rage exhausted. And you have the nerve to smirk, you self-righteous b*****d.
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