I'm a bully.And I enjoy it.
Weak people disgust me — all whiny, soft, and painfully useless.They think I pick on them because of how they look.Nah.
I hate incompetence.They can't run, can't study, can't draw a straight line — hell, most of them can't even hold a proper conversation.
You call that a human being?I call it wasted oxygen.
I'm good-looking. Strong as hell. And damn near perfect at football.I'm top of my class too — straight A's across the board.
So yeah, I have the right to look down on the pathetic.
One time, I was messing with this pig.Fat. Ugly. Weak. Dumb. Short.The kind of guy who should thank the gods if people even remember his name.
And this loser? He had the balls to flirt with my girl.
My girl.
What kind of filthy insect thinks that's okay?
So, I beat him up after school.
He screamed and cried like a damn pig — snorting and wailing.Honestly? Hilarious. I couldn't stop laughing.
I kept it going for a few days. Just for fun.
Then the bastard pulled a knife.
Stabbed me.
From behind.
Cheap, filthy move. I couldn't even react.
I was bleeding out.On the cold pavement, holding my side, vision blurring.
That bastard ran off.
I hope he trips.I hope he gets caught.
"Karma will get you, you filthy piece of shit..."
That was the last thing I said.
Then everything went dark.