I was always looked at differently.
Nobody ever paid attention to me, because I wasn't as important. Everyone needed me, but they never admitted it. I was useful in physical fighting, but nothing more. Nobody wanted me; but when they needed my help, they automatically assumed that I would help. And I would.
Everyone told me I had problems, and that I needed to calm down. They said I got too wild sometimes, and that I needed to control my anger.
But sometimes I couldn't.
Everyone always said that I dressed improper, and that I should start acting more lady like. HA! Only in their dreams…
There was only one other person that understood somewhat where I was coming from.
But we are sworn enemies.
(TO THE STORY)
I was thrown back into the building, which caved in on top of me. I made my way out, only to be met in the face by a shoe.
I fell back, wiping away the blood on my mouth. I glared up at him, and he just smirked.
Everything was exactly how it was every day…so far. He got me angry, we fought, and then we both left home unsatisfied. It wasn't enough… We were trying to get rid of the anger that burned within us, but when we fought, it only created more for us to endure the rest of the day.
We had to figure out a different way to fight the anger.
He bent down, and grabbed my hair. I growled in pain, as he yanked my head back. He smirked, and got on his knees in front of me.
I punched his jaw, leaving a victorious mark.
He grabbed my wrists with one hand, while his other hand still held tight on my hair.
"This…isn't working…" I growled angrily.
He leaned down, his messy, sweaty black hair falling down over his face, "I know."
Then he punched my face, sending me at least three feet back.
I got up, breathing hard.
He was standing a few feet away; his black hair wild and matted to his head. His forest green T-shirt was torn, and shredded at the ends. His black jeans were shredded so badly, you wouldn't know they were jeans. His tanned skin had cuts, and was bruised all over. His forest green eyes were glaring daggers at me, yet I saw a new emotion within them.
I didn't know what the emotion was…and I didn't like it. Not one bit.
He lunged at me, and I did the same.
We both flew up in the air, kicking and punching each other.
We flew down into Pokey Oaks High School, and accidentally…into the pool.
We both plunged into the water, in the deep end, pausing our fight for that brief moment.
I came up above the water, gasping for air. I was hitting at the waves, trying to keep myself up. The problem was…I couldn't swim. I never went swimming, because I was too occupied by fighting crime.
I finally couldn't stay up above the water anymore, and I fell to my doom at the bottom of the lake.
A pair of arms wrapped around me…probably Death's.
I came up above the water, and gasped for air, clinging to the person that helped me.
I looked up, and saw it was Butch.
The emotion that was in Butch's eyes before, shown more than ever. For once in his life he looked concerned. That concern quickly left him, and it returned to anger.
He set me up on the edge of the pool, with him still in the water, "What the HELL Buttercup?"
I shivered, still coughing up a little water.
"Don't you know how to swim?" he growled at me.
"N-NO!" I yelled at him, half out of anger, half out of embarrassment.
He froze with that, before pulling me back down into the water.
I pulled away, only to find myself sinking once again.
He grabbed me, holding me close…too close.
I rested my forehead on his shoulder, refusing to look at him. He was warm, extremely warm.
He put his finger under my chin, lifting my face up, "You almost died Buttercup…"
"Wouldn't be the first time Butch," I said, my heart racing abnormally fast.
He took one last look at me through his forest green eyes, before grabbing my face and kissing me.
His lips were soft, opposite of his chest which was rock hard. My hands grabbed his hair, which was just slightly rougher than mine. His hands grabbed my hair, pushing my face towards his even more. I couldn't breathe…it was too much…I wasn't used to this…
I couldn't breath.
I pushed against him with all my strength, when reality came back to me.
He stared at me as I growled at him, "WHAT THE HELL?"
If I wasn't afraid of drowning, I would have let go again.
"YOU CAN'T JUST KISS ME AND EXPECT ME TO BE OKAY WITH IT!" I yelled angrily.
He grabbed my head again, pushing me down a little to where he was towering over me, "You need me."
Then he kissed me hard.
Except this time, I didn't fight it.
He was right…I did need him.
But I didn't want him.