Antoine Griezmann is so bad. And what just happened is a perfect example of how much of a horrible person he is.
First, he forces me to sell beer to him. Then I tell someone about it, because it's literally the law that I should. Okay, well, actually, I may or may not have just told someone because I despise Antoine. Probably if it were anyone else, I would just stay quiet about it.
Either way, so I told the police about it, right? He wanted me to leave, and I'm sure it's because he was trying to lie to the officer or some crap. Probably the officer didn't believe him, and still gave him a huge fine and community service time. For God's sake, why should he care? I'm sure he's richer than the king and has enough time to do community service. Instead of going out drinking with his friends.
And then, because of how mad he is at me, he punches me! Right across the face. Twice! Now my face is all bruised up, and he made my mouth bleed. And just ran off, just like that!
Well, you know what I did? I marched back into that school building and showed myself to the principal. I've never, ever, been a tattletale about Antoine's beatings, but this time. This time! If tattling on him is the only way to get him off of me, then I'm going to tattle! If he gets sent to an insane asylum, then good! That's probably where he belongs! It would probably be the best for him to go to a place like that!
Plus, it would, for once and for all, get that nasty leech named Antoine Griezmann out of my life.
His words hurt yesterday. I went home and cried. And then I simmered with rage, that no matter how hard I try, Antoine can still somehow always manage to break my walls. Tear me apart. He's a master of his treacherous art.
The teachers got me fixed up at the nurses' office, telling me that they would call Antoine's parents and be sure he got the proper punishment that he deserved.
I didn't mention that none of this technically occurred on school property or during school hours. Despite my hate for Antoine, I can deny he's smart. He knew that if I would tattle about that, I'd tattle about more things, too. But I guess his anger just overcame that intelligence, and he punched me twice, right next to school property and school hours ending.
He thinks I can't lie, too, I guess. I'd do a lot of things to get Antoine the justice he deserves, for being someone who I wish had never been born.
When I go home after school, my tired mother is very concerned about what happened. At dinner that night, I tell her and my younger sister all about what happened. They know about Antoine. I wouldn't hide that from them. But my mother has never offered to do anything about it, which is okay. It's my problem, not hers. She has enough problems for herself, including raising my three-year-old sister, staying on stop of all her work (which is a lot, because she's taking care of us only by her income), and getting a wedding planned for her and her boyfriend, Gabriel, who we just call simply 'Gabe'.
My mother shakes her head a lot as I tell the story, cursing out Antoine, as she usually does. She's never seen him, and only knows him by what I say about him, so I wouldn't be surprised if she imagines him as some nasty, disgusting, slimy green monster who lives off of other people's pain.
I'm sure that's how Antoine on the inside looks. He's just covered up by that silly, laughing, handsome Antoine that everyone else on the face of planet Earth seems to love, other than me.
Because I'm the one person, for some reason, who he takes all the pain from. That monster in him has to live somehow. I guess you can say it's good he doesn't ruin everyone's lives. Just mine.
Or you could say it's bad, because he knows he has looks and charm, so he's going to hide that monster, reserved for one person, so that with everyone else, he has love and popularity.
I'm going to choose to think about the second option, because I am always ready and happy to find more things I hate about Antoine Griezmann.
That night, I head to my evening shift at the gas station that I just got a few days ago. It's an awful, unnerving job, but it's money, and money is money.
It's just that usually the customers are either fat old men or stinky high school drop-outs.
And Antoine, I guess, to get beer for a party with him and his friends.
During my shift, I get a text from him on Snapchat. Speak of the devil. Quite literally. He's worse than the devil, I'm sure. It reads:
I am fueled by his nasty words, so without further thought, I hit the call button, listening to it ring, before his voice comes on, saying, "What the hell do you want?"
"What the hell do I want?! My God, Antoine! I can tell you what I want!" I'm on fire, and it's only getting hotter as my voice raises in anger and volume. "I want you to stop all this! Obsessing over making my life terrible?! Punching me, kicking me, pushing and shoving me, for doing the right thing?! Bullying me nonstop?! Why? Why, Antoine?! I want you to leave me alone! I want you to block me right now, and stop talking to me! Stop looking at me! Don't even talk about me! Don't think about me! Pretend I don't exist! I don't exist to you! You're dead to me! So leave it for God's sake! Leave me alone! It's not good for either of us, so let's just continue on with life like we don't know each other, okay? I'm sure you'll go real far someday, Antoine. And I hope you stay there! Never come to me. Don't look at me! Not another touch or push or shove or punch! I'm all bruised up now, all because of you! I hate you, Antoine. If you leave me alone, I'll leave you alone! Okay?"
"'Kay, f***er," he says casually, which makes me even more angry.
"Antoine," I say lower into the phone, my teeth clenched together. "I want to talk to you meet you, one more time, before you listen to what I'm saying and let this be my first good year in a while, okay? One more meeting..."
"Oh really? Why is that? You wanna confess your love for me, shorty?" he jokes.
"Quite the opposite. I want to give you what you deserve, and let you sit with that. I want you to feel my pain and anger, Antoine. Next Saturday, at 5:00 in the morning, we're meeting at the park east of the school, to settle this, okay?"
"Okay," he says casually, sounding slightly amused, but nothing more. "I'm excited to see what a weakling like you thinks she's got in her. See you then, Reesy." And he hangs up, just like that.
God, I hate his guts.
Good thing I'm going to beat my hurt and pain into him Saturday morn, physically and emotionally.
