The Girl I Hate

Chapter 1

The girl I hate. She's someone I despise. I can't even stand the sight of her. Her shadow alone makes me shiver, her voice makes my ears bleed. I just can't stand her. Worst part is, there's no reason at all.

It started on our first day at university. This girl walked with confidence, thinking today is the day she starts over. Leaving everything behind at home, she is now a new person. She looked as if she owned the whole place, and every other student looked at her in awe. She had great sense in fashion, to which the female students responded to by following her around, desperate for advice. The male students would stare at her with honey dripping in their eyes, desperate for her attention. The professors would praise her for her intelligence, and her good sense of humour.

And here I am, wishing for her death.

I don't know who she is. I've never met her before. I didn't even get a good glimpse at her face, with all the students surrounding her. I just hate her.

It took me a while to realise why, and I couldn't believe myself.

I always thought of myself as someone who does the bare minimum of being kind. I was never a hateful person; I've never envied someone or wished for their misery. I wasn't the kindest, brightest boy in town, but I wasn't a villain in anybody's story. Yet here I am, hating this girl, because she looks like she's never faced hardships her whole life.

I grew up receiving all kinds of abuse, it's probably the reason why I'm so gloomy. I'm not muscular like most men out there, nor do I have any interest in bodybuilding. I have no interest in anything, my days mostly consist of sleeping or doing the bare minimum needed to complete my tasks. And there's that girl, full of life, with a productive day ahead of her.

I spent 4 months completely hating her, and I never bothered to hide it. I don't have any friends, and everybody at school hated me for it.

"Why does he despise an angel like her?"

"He's probably jealous, right?"

"Probably because she's way out of his league."

And many more.

One day, at the end of the semester before Christmas break, we had one last project to do. And to my luck, as if God was mocking me for hating his beloved child, I was put into the same group as her.

We were a group of 4, one student ghosted us and the other ended up in the hospital. So, I was left all alone with her, with that disgusting trash.

"Can you hold these books, please?" The bitch said when she handed me two books, while she held the four others.

I pretended to hold out my hand to take them, then retreated. The heavy books fell on her toes, and she winced a bit.

I smiled the most twisted smile ever. It brings me joy seeing her in pain. I become on cloud nine whenever I see this woman miserable. Her misery is my joy. It brings me light in this shallow life of mine.

However, I was shocked to see her reaction.

The woman's expression was blank. She wasn't angry, sad or nervous. She had no expression to begin with. It's as if nothing happened, and she picked up the books in silence.

I was enraged. Why won't she scream at me? Cry like the little baby she was raised to be? Why won't she just be miserable? How could someone as spoiled as her react like this?

The students around us were whispering and glaring at me, and many knights in shining armour volunteered to hold the books for her, and she reacted to them like usual.

She smiled, thanked them, and walked with them, leaving me standing behind like some idiot.

The following week consisted of me torturing her in every way possible. Spilling drinks on her, tearing her books, and deleting information stored on her laptop when she left it unattended. Yet despite all that, her reaction was still the same.

On the last day before the presentation was to be held, I lost it. I took it too far and broke her phone.

She will scream now, right? This woman will finally lose it, and everyone will see a disgusting side of her.

I stood there, waiting for her breakdown, but contrary to my expectation, the fucking bitch had the same exact reaction.

At that moment, I lost it.

I grabbed this woman by the shoulders, shook her violently while screaming, "Why won't you scream at me?! Why aren't you angry? I broke your damn phone for God's sake, you should be crying and complaining, yet here you are, like some emotionless little slut!"

Luckily, we were alone in the room, and nobody was there to stop me.

The woman raised her head, looked me in the eye and whispered,

"Harder, Daddy."

What the actual fuck is this.