To Forgive Is Divine, but I’m Not That Type

I was sitting at my usual bench outside the school cafeteria. My eyes glanced at the passing crowds of students, all busying themselves with the trivial problems in their self-absorbed lives. I just sat there for what felt like hours, slowly drinking the beer in my right hand and smoking the cigarette in my left.

I hated the idiocy of some students. All they cared about was how their hair looked, or who was dating who. No one gave a damn about real life and real problems.

I looked at the bottle in my hand with disgust; it was empty.

I threw the glass bottle at the wall of the school; it smashed violently, showering one of the students in glass, and dregs of Budweiser.

"You freak!" shrieked one of the 'popular' girls, or as I liked to call them, SAT's. That's short for Self-Absorbed Tarts (and Scholastic Aptitude Test as well).

"Do you know how much this outfit cost me?" she yelled at me, flicking her blonde hair over her shoulder.

"Actually, I thought that charity hand-outs were free," I replied, coolly rising from my seat and, flinging my backpack over my shoulders, walking away from the blonde bimbo. I never was a loud and outspoken person; I kept to myself and rarely talked to anyone else.

"Hey! Get back here now!" she snapped.

I stopped in mid-step and hissed over my shoulder, "Don't you dare tell me what to do!"

I had had enough of people trying to control me. I remembered what happened this morning; the truth finally came out when mom saw my face, and Michael had just laughed it off. Of course he would do something like that; he was 'daddy's special son' after all. Damn him, damn them both!

I spun around and threw my bag to the floor. My eyes were wide and ferocious with anger; they were burning a dark green as they always did when I was angry. They darkened and looked very fierce. Hell, I even scared my mom once!

I ran at her and pulled my arm back. My fist collided with her nose. Hearing a sickening crunch, I realized that I had broke her nose. She instantly fell to the floor, whimpering.

I bent over her pathetic form and pulled her close to my face by her bleach blonde hair.

"Now you listen to me closely, girly. You ever mention that again, and I swear to your god that I will end you!"

With that, I then dropped her hair, flicked the cigarette butt in her face, and calmly strode towards my black and red motorcycle, scooping up my bag which contained most of my possessions -- well, only the important ones that I couldn't bare to part with: my sketch book and pencils, my paints with a few paintbrushes, a wad of cash saved from my jobs, and a change of clothes.

Yes. You guessed right. I am running away. Not the most noble of things to do, but hey, I don't give a damn.