Styled

"why don't you just go play dress up?" Harry asks. he knows it's been a good eight years since my princess stage, and we're fifteen... so why was he being so cruel? why is he ALWAYS so cruel? i wish he'd tell me what i did. i quickly steal the football from underneath him and he topples over. i wince; knowing that, that wont go unpunished. "Harry, just let me play. i'm sorry!" he glares at me and stands up, wiping the dirt off of his bum. "get lost!" he says, grabbing the ball back and pushing me over, really hard. I look up from the ground and feel a throbbing from my head after its fall on the hard ground and see the unmistakable look of fire in Harry's eyes. my arm hurts from me landing on it- is it broken? i move it around and conclude that it's not broken, but it's really swollen. "what's your problem?" i ask, getting up. he rolls his eyes and walks away but i stop him by his shoulder. in one swift moment he turns around and smacks me right on the cheek. i fall from impact. "stay down, you annoying twat."i feel tears rushing to my eyes and my cheek is red and hot. for half a second i think that i see concern on his face- but it's quickly replaced by the fire as leans down. "don't tell anyone it was me. or you'll get way worse than a smack to the face." i cringe back from him while still holding my cheek. then he stands up straight and runs off. but i sit here, broken.