the underdog // h.s.

{ two; history }

b r o o k e l l e,

     I finally figured out who the creep was. The man who had been staring at me at the restaurant, making me feel uncomfortable as I sat with my boyfriend. He was Harry, a man considered to be a king at my school. His girlfriend was Scarlett Kingston, the self-proclaimed queen. I didn't like her much, though I don't really have a decent reason to. She was beautiful, friendly to most people, and more intelligent than the rest of the royals in our stupid kingdom. But there was just a vibe about her that seemed to strike me the wrong way.

The funny thing was, Scarlett and I used to be the best of friends when we were younger and still in daycare. She was my rock, and I was her shield. We stuck together through thick and thin. Even though we barely lived a decade, we had terrible lives. Don't get me wrong; there are people who have had worse than us, but we weren't used to the sick cruelty that we called reality. We grew up on fairies and princesses and knights in shining armours. We got drunk on our fantasies about true love and perfection -- which is complete rubbish now, if you ask me.

At the young age of nine, we had grown apart. Not by our obligation, of course. If we had it our way, we would still be the best of friends, looking out for each other and hurting whoever gets in our way. But Scarlett had gone through a tragic accident around that time which caused her to forget many things, me being one of them.

It was tough enough for me, since I was already dealing with my own problems. But add in my best friend, my rock, my reason to keep holding on to forget my whole existence and everything we had? The nine year old me couldn't handle all that. Instead of dealing with my problems, I let it take over me. Kind of odd, since I was only nine, but the things that happened caused me to mature quite rapidly.

And that was when I met Louis. Or, well, when I kind of befriended him. He was my neighbour at the time, and I hated his guts. He was an annoying prick, always picking on me and making life harder than it had to be. His mum and mine were the best of friends, though they weren't the typical ladies who forced their children to become best friends as well. They let us do what we pleased, and I barely even saw the lad.

But one night, I snuck out of my room and outside into my little playhouse and cried my eyes out. My mum was sound asleep, and she was a heavy sleeper so she barely noticed a thing. My dad was out working late again, and my older brother had been away at some sort of science camp. Nine year old me had locked the door to my playhouse, not wanting anyone to bother me if they had heard me, and that's when the little asshole decided to knock on the pink wooden door.

"Hello," he had said to me, peeking through the window. I remember rolling my eyes at the chinky boy, wanting to slam his face into the brick walls of my playhouse. "You alrigh' there, mate?" By now, I was more annoyed than distressed, so my crying had ceased and I just glared at him with furious eyes. "Right then. Erm, so me mum's wonderin' why your playhouse light was on and ordered me to come check on ya'. You seem to want me out of here, so I'll just be on my way then."

"What? No worms in my hair? No dirt down my shirt? No spiders in my shoes? Louis Tomlinson is just going to walk away without a fight? Ha, seems like a Christmas miracle." I remember spitting every word out with venom laced through them, hoping he'd pick a fight with me. Fighting was my favourite activity then, after losing Scarlett. The adrenaline that pumped through my veins when I argued, and the way my mind would shut down and my fists would just take over whenever things got physical. I loved it.

Louis just sent me a smile then, one that made his eyes look as if they disappeared. I always teased him for that. "Nah. You seem to be in a terrible mood already. I'd hate to be the meanie who made it worse. C'mon, Brooke. Open the door for me and tell me what's wrong. You can go back to hatin' me after, yeah, but I think you're due for a good rant."