On Saturday morning, I am loyal to go the the park at 5:00. I'm excited to see what she thinks she can do to me.
As I'm strolling there, a small tune in my head, I think about my father, and the officer, and all that. I have heard nothing more of it, and I have a feeling that something fell through. Nothing is going to happen of it, I'm sure. I don't know if I'm stressed or relieved about that fact. I don't like being unable to interpret emotions.
It's raining outside, just drizzling, but it feels darker than the underworld. I have the hood of my grey Puma hoodie up, but it still doesn't cure the chill going way down, deep into the depths of my bones. I hate the shivers, but they come to me regularly, and not always just because of cooler temperatures.
I see Reese Mallory sitting on a bench on her phone, looking tense, so I walk over, calling, "Hey, shorty, I'm here to see what you've got for me!"
Her head shoots up, which I can't help but at least slightly chuckle at. She has black and blue on her left cheek and in front of her right ear. I guess I did end up hitting her pretty hard. Good. She deserved it, after what she did to me.
Her eyes are cold. Another chill goes through me, goose pimples appearing on my arms under my sleeves. I keep my hands in my pockets, relaxing my shoulders.
"So," I smirk. "You decided it'd be romantic at 5:00 A.M. on a rainy Saturday morning in the park?"
Before I can see what her expression is, my head is knocked to the side.
By her fist.
I look at her, surprised, for just a moment, before trying to erase that feeling off my expression. "You're fiesty," I comment.
"You're right, Antoine! I am. Sit down next to me," she says, sitting back down on the bench.
This is weird. Why doesn't she just punch me a few more times, say she hates me, and move on? Girls have always been one of the things that I understand the least. Most of the time, Reese Mallory is actually the girl I understand the most, ironically enough. I still sit down next to her, though, too curious not to. "Yeah, what?" I question.
Then she grabs my collar, and she starts. She starts ripping me apart. I didn't know she had this in her. "Antoine, you're nasty. There is nothing good about you. Just because you have handsome looks and perfect hair doesn't mean you aren't nasty inside. All your emotions center around yourself. You target me in order to make yourself feel greater. But do you wanna know why? Because you know you suck. You try so hard to make everyone like you, to be the best. If you didn't suck, you wouldn't have to try. You're always so stressed about being awesome, you put me down in order to feel better. That's nasty, disgusting, and disordered, just like you yourself as a person are. You always talk about how I'm never going to be successful in life, and that I'm not good at anything. You say that because you stress about not being good enough yourself. If you keep putting others down like this to make yourself feel like the king, you'll build up your kingdom of toothpicks in all its glory, all to be blown by the wind and topple down. No one wants to be friends with a schmuck when they see that's what you are. No one wants to hire a liar. No one wants to go out with a guy who only cares about himself and his reputation. There's more to life, Antoine, then being liked by all! Sometimes the kindest people are the scapegoats, and the ones thrown under the bus! That's me. That is what you have done to me. You're a hypocrite, and a wolf in sheep's clothing. All your friends will leave you someday, when I'm gone, and you have to find someone else to use to push yourself up higher. It's repulsive. You're a repulsive person, in every way. Your soul is black and your heart is crumbled up. Your life is so good. Instead of giving to others, you use it all for yourself. You only help others and care for them if you're helping and caring for yourself, too. You have torn my life up, and rid me all my friends and reputation, just because you're scared that's going to happen to you. You always call me the coward. But you're the coward. Cowards are afraid of fear. You're afraid of rejection. You're messed up in the head, and messed up in the heart. I don't know why you care so much about pleasing others, and I don't even really care! You suck, that's that. And I'm sure you aren't going to take anything I'm saying to heart, because you're heartless. You're selfish. You're one of those people in the world that would be better if they were dead, Antoine, because all you're going to succeed at is destroying others, if you keep like this! So that's what I wanted to say, Antoine! That's it! So from now on, leave! Me! Alone!" On the last three words, she punches me, with all her strength, in the face. I stand up to get away from her, staring at her, eyes wide, holding my now bleeding nose. She stands up, kicking me in the stomach, punches me five more times, giving me a headache, and takes a few steps back.
"What!?" she demands. "Surprise you? Don't give me that face, Antoine," she spits. "I hate you! I HATE YOU, ANTOINE GRIEZMANN. I. Hate. You. Feel surprising to be treated like this, Antoine? Does it hurt? Well, guess what? Now you know how I feel! Now you know how I've been feeling for years, Antoine! Years! Bye, and never talk to me again. No one should love you, and if they do, when they learn who you really are, they'll leave you. Everyone will leave you, because you're nothing but trash." Then she turns, running away, leaving me there.
Just leaving me here in the rain, which has picked up. It's pouring. Beating on my back, like all her words.
