"I want us to have a little chat."
She has on her signature evil smirk. Honestly, I hate this b***h.
"About what?"
"The little dramatic story you just gave us, you do know no one believes you, right?"
My eyes are focused on her screaming red lipstick, I swear she looks like a she-devil.
"I didn't want anyone to, so if you don't mind I need to leave." I walk away but I feel her strong nails grip my arm.
The grip is so tight that I can feel her nails, fake, to be precise, dig into my skin.
I'm supposed to be scared, she always scares me, but surprisingly, I'm not.
She moves closer to me and whispers into my ear.
"You'll always be a loser and a murderer."
I have been called a lot of things, and the murderer has become one of my titles, but there's no way in hell I'd let her call me
