Sluts in Love

It's always a fucking redhead, isn't it?

The color is like the offspring of a rotten cherry and the fire hydrant that's been peed on a little too many times by Shitler.

It was a Tuesday. December eighteenth. Nothing too exciting about that, right? But she fucking prances up to me and kisses me full on the lips in the middle of the fucking cafeteria. It's not like it's the first time we've kissed each other because we do that just for show sometimes. But it's what she says after she kisses me, when she has everyone's attention and starts walking out the vomit yellow doors.

"Get ready for the best birthday sex ever, baby!"

I will fucking kill her. I hate my birthday and she just had to announce it to every one of the fucking dumbasses. And now even Rosaline glances up from her nerd squad and arches a light brown eyebrow. I nearly flip her off.

Don't look at me, I want to scream until my lungs are sore. Mind your own God damn business. Jesus. You'd think this was some fucking sideshow attraction.

I am going to fill up my bathtub will bleach and stick her head under until she stops breathing.

I hate that fucking bitch.

I am going to stab her in the chest with a dull, jagged dagger.

Why hasn't she overdosed and died yet?

A pack of cannibalistic lepers will eat her heart and drink her blood until there's nothing left.

She will suffer for this.