𝕺𝖓𝖊 𝖘𝖍𝖔𝖙𝖘

𝓕𝓲𝓻𝓼𝓽 𝓫𝓾𝓻𝓷

I hate her.

I hate the way she talks. I hate the way she moves. I hate the way she laughs. I hate the way she treats me. I hate her.

But even so, why do I wanna be near her. Be with her. It hurts, it burns. Why can't I just hate her normally? Why does she have to be so... beautiful. Graceful. Captivating. Lustrous. Luminous. Breathtaking.

Breathtaking... Oh, she's breathtaking alright. Her hand around my neck, choking me. She's literally trying to kill me, and all I can think about is... her. Her looks... Her personality... her quirks... her strength...

As her hand tightens its grip, trying to take any remaining air out my lungs, I look into her eyes. Her cold, dark, lifeless eyes... She's so beautiful... I hate her.

Then, with one quick motion, I drop to the ground beneath me with a small thud. I cough and breathe deeply as I try to gain back the breath that was so rightfully taken from me- so rightfully? No, I hated this girl.

"Looks like the little girls too scared to say anything. Gonna cry to your mommy, honeybee?"

Her voice was so incredibly intoxicating, it was insane. The words danced off her tongue like honey, sweet to my ears but full of lies. She didn't care about me, she's made that clear many times.

"Awww... Is honeybee sad because I was mean to her? What a meanie I am..."

Faux sympathy is something that she's known for, and it's the one thing that's kept me so... attached. I was never the type of person to cry in front of people, but today she just... struck a nerve no one has ever reached. It burned so badly. I hated her. I hated her so badly. I hated her so badly but if she picked on someone else I'd become... jealous.

I needed her.

I need her.

And it burns.

As if she had even a shred of pity for me, she leaned down to where I was. The next second, all I felt was her warm lips on my forehead. A pity kiss. Then, a head pat.

"You are too cute and pathetic not to pity and give some affection. Such a cutie."

And with that, she walked away from me. Out of the school bathroom where she tortured me on a daily basis. She left me.

...

I hate you, Elizabeth Florence.