Targeting Mr. Cupid: Revenge of the broken girl

It hurts.

It hurts.

It hurts.

It hurts like I just got shot by an arrow at the chest.
Not by a baby on diapers, who had wings and carry a little bow.

No.

But by a smoking hot guy with dark black eyes and hair. Wearing a leather jacket on a black shirt, dark blue jeans and black converse. His stare was cold, very cold. Like if you stayed under it for about a few minutes, you're as good as a corps.

"Mr. Cupid, nice to see you again." I said, not budging from my spot. "I see that you have shot me again. Who is it this time? An old pervert man? The mailman who chews mint and gum all day? Or perhaps that guy with a mole on his nose who lives next to me?"

He didn't say anything. Instead, he smiled as if he's the devil himself.

"Well, I had enough of you and your love arrows." I grabbed the black arrow stabbed at my chest then threw it on the ground, "See? I'm so sick of it that I'm immune with the love spell already."

His smile grew wider, amused from my rebellion.

"I won't sulk about a nasty break up or straight up rejection anymore. Thanks to you, and your stupid match making, I finally dumped the idea of love and falling in love. It's time for this girl to take her revenge."