I smirked as I watched her. Her face was contorted with humiliation. Her tears threatened to spill. Her cheeks turned an ugly shade of crimson. She struggled to contain her messy hair, falling out of its ponytail.

So I continued.

I rolled my eyes. Even watching her now aggravated me.

“What a baby,” I muttered under my breath. She couldn’t even take a small teasing. A meager hit.

The girl can no longer compose herself as she starts to whimper at my feet. She tucks her bedraggled, matted hair behind her ears to reveal her pasty, white face entirely. Her eyes are cobalt blue and are framed by thick, black-rimmed glasses. Her lips are chapped and she draws more attention to them as she nervously bites on them. She fumbles with her books and in the process her glasses plummet to the ground.

So. I smile coyly.

My name is Britney Walsh. This is my daily routine. Some would call me a bully, but they don’t understand that I am trying to help these feeble people. I break them down so that they are prepared for life when it hits them in the face. That’s what my dad told me. At first I didn’t understand his theory. Every time I endured his cuts and bruises, I tried to see from his point of view, but I was blind to it. But now I know.

So. I am resilient and tough. Nothing can deter me. All thanks to my dad. He has, of course, raised me with my best interests at heart. I should never have doubted him.

“Oh, let me get that for you,” I say, my voice dripping with sweetness. She examines me through squinted eyes, trying to figure out my intention. I step around her with caution, not wanting to be near such scum. I bend down and let my pink, satin heels hover over her bulky glasses. I allow to suspense to build as I hear her breath hitch. I relish the panicked frenzy that overcomes her features. As she grabs for her glasses, I lay my weight down. The satisfying snap echoes throughout the hall. I see a few glances thrown our way, but hurried on none-the-less. Smirking, I raise an eyebrow.

So. I own this school.

An agonizing gasp is audible from the girls mouth and I take a sharp breath, with my hand placed on my chest. I fix a hurt, sympathetic look on my face.

“Oh my God,” I exclaim, my voice free from emotion, a stark contrast to my previous tone. “I am so sorry.”

I smile smugly at the now wailing mess that lies on the floor in front of me, as I saunter down the hallway, my admirers following me.

I hope that she appreciates what I’ve done for her. She doesn’t know how lucky she is. To have someone there for her, like my dad was for me. She doesn’t realize it now, but she will.
One day.
My name is Britney Walsh, and I am a bully.

So, as I said.

It’s a hard knock life.

Thanks so much for reading you guys!!!

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