FicWad

Her jaded, highly conceited rang out around the school field, beginning the fight that it was obvious I already lost.
She pulled my hair, in the process dragging me to the ground. The girl pulling my hair – her name’s Natasha. The pulling and whatnot? It happens on a regular basis.
As soon as she’s up on her two feet again she begins kicking me in the ribs, making them feel like the casing around my vital organs was being smashed into dust. A small circle of the usual Natasha-absorbed cronies begins to surround us. Exactly what the bitch wanted. The fact that she had absolutely NO pressure hanging over her to beat me.
Natasha was an only child. Nice house, money to bathe in, parents who give her anything she wants. She didn’t have a sibling who was prepared to come and help in one of these meaningless fights. She had an army. My brother Pete was standing on the sidelines. Watching and waiting for the time to jump in. Even though that was also pointless. If hate was to be calculated between the both of us, our combined loathing for the girl slowly killing me while simultaneously wearing the shortest skirt, would blow the meter.
I regretted every action I had ever made towards her and her little posse. Okay, the ‘little’ posse was virtually the entire school minus the Wentz’s. The awkward little smiles in her direction and puny waves for absolutely no reason. That could only really progress to my weak attempts at life-ruining insults. I used to think that Natasha was sort of pretty. It just makes me regret living everytime that thought springs to mind.
A long singular cry of pain made its way out of the escape outlet of my mouth. Natasha only threw her head back and laughed before killing me just a little bit harder. She pulled my hair as if I were a marionette puppet, forcing me to stand vertically. The ever-growing crowd had cheered harder at that. Everything had sounded so much more quiet and muffled on the gravelly ground. Now that I was on two feet, sort of, the volume got turned up full blast. I was aware of myself swaying, showing my infinite weakness. I should have just fell to the ground but that fucking fighting instinct that we all have kept me going to try and throw a punch. I tried to pull up my jeans, riding down too far past my hips so I was knocked over, crashing to the ground, face-planting in some sort of sweet defeat. It felt good. Just lying there. Watching the clouds as my head spun. Cumulonimbus clouds were filling the sky, warning people of thunderstorms to follow. But of course nobody noticed. Maybe the rain water would help heal my wounds faster, mixed with a tiny bit of acid from the city fumes and maybe I’d gain superpowers.
I knew that I was going to be out of school for a few days. Maybe I was going to be in a coma for a couple of weeks. At least I’d be gone from everything for just a little while. My eyes closed shut but I heard Pete do something that resembled a war cry and I flinched knowing that this fight with Natasha was like hitting two birds with one stone.
We were both out for the fight, no tomorrow for a while.


(If you could think of a cooler name can you please review it. I suck at titles.
Sorry for there being no existing title at all in my first attempt at uploading.
This one's not going to be a funny one.
Memento mori!