"I can do whatever the hell I want!" She yelled, shaking her fists in my face. I growled. "If I wanna do my make-up to look like a clown, I'll look like a fucking clown! If I wanna dress like a slut, I'll dress like a dirty slut! If I wanna kill myself because it's too much, I'LL FUCKING BLEED MYSELF!" She continued to scream in my face, angry, foamy, white spittle flying at me. I snarled at her and held the bronze razor away from her reach.

"No, you can't! I'm sorry, princess, but that's not the way the world works!" I yelled in frustration. "I am 16! I'm old enough to make my own decisions!" She yells, grabbing my long hair and pulling. I clench her wrists, digging my clawed nails into her pale arms. "You're old enough to decide how you spend your money, what job you get, and what college you get into! You're not old enough to dress like some cheap whore, or look like some frowning clown, you idiot!" I yelled. And then, we continue to push, pull each other's hair, claw, pin each other down, beat on each other, and press each other against the wall. Roughly.

And wile we hurt each other physically (We don't seem to mind the claws, dents, blood, and bruises on each other), we keep yelling stabbing, fighting, and biting words. And somewhere in the middle of our brawl, I dropped the razor in favor of punching her and clawing her hair. She didn't seem to notice the failed suicide attempt weapon fall to our feet, seeming content with trying to get me off her, all the while grabbing at my shirt, ripping it, and clawing down my legs with her rakes she calls nails. Then, I wrap my arms around her neck and forcibly change our positions as I rammed her against the wall. Her bruised legs wrap around my hips, pushing with all the weight in her withering body and pinning me to the ground. She continues to punch me, beating me black and blue, and screaming like an animal.

And you know what?

I smiled sadistically, loving every minute of our little 'Tantrum'.

I grabbed her wrists, leaning forward forcibly and pinning her down. She growls at me as my hands rake mercilessly at her hair and arms, wearing her down. And as we grunt, wheeze for air, and scream ourselves hoarse, I realize that she's passionate about our argument, about her blows, about conquering my very being.

Her hair sticks to her bleeding, purple, and raw red face, making her look like a true warrior. Her bright iridescent eyes sparkle, raw emotion clear in them, emotion I made her feel alone. Her golden nails chip as she continues to claw at me, golden flecks landing on me. Her toned, bruised legs press roughly against my hips, squeezing me in a death grip. Her pink lips swollen from punches to the mouth, are pulled back from dangling teeth in a snarl, and the whole room is hot and full of B.O., what with our pressing against each other, and fighting sweat mingling together.

And as I watch her lips as she screams at me, and her raw red chin held up high as she dominates me, I feel the need to rile her up, to get caught in that inferno in her eyes, to feel that wall of fire licking at my skin and swallow me whole...

Call me sadistic and masochistic, but I want her to burn me...

She's stopped beating me now, and I don't want her to...

But...there's another way to rile her up...

I grab her messy and tangled hair matted together in clumps, damp with sweat, and lean forward, so I'm on top again. My smash my swollen mouth against hers, and she responds enthusiastically, wrapping her arms roughly around my lithe figure and bringing me closer, enveloping me in her body heat and sweat. I smirk as her fire and passion spirals out of control, her hands ripping my shirt off as I do the same with her skirt. I pull away and run my eyes over her body. It's covered with bruises, and her shirt's top has already unbuttoned, but there are one too many buttons...

As she fumbles with my bra clasp, i rip her shirt apart, buttons flying everywhere as she tosses my bra across the room. I laugh loudly and don't even bother with unhooking her bra, only tossing across the room like she did to mine. Finally, she frees me from my shorts, leaving us both in panties. I smirk as she dominates me, squeezing my chest as I grab her thighs, pulling them up to my abdomen.

My head leans up, biting her neck as she groans and does the same to my neck. I laugh mockingly, pulling her closer so we're sandwiched together, our sweat and blood mingling together and creating a weird smell that I got drunk off of, relishing in making her lose control.

It all happens too fast, but I remember every detail of what happened, and I loved every minute or it.

My head's on her lap now as she strokes my hair, smiling fondly at me. I 'm nearly asleep, but I see her smile and I smile to myself as I let her finger-comb my hair gently. I look to her other hand and see her red fingers brush against the marble black handle of the razor blade. I trail my hand to hers, locking our fingers to keep her hand away from the weapon.

And as I trace the bite mark on her knee with my free hand, I smile and kiss it, and once my lisp make contact, I feel whole, happy...

Although the fire is overwhelming and I love to play with it, I love to revel in the warmth of the embers, too.

So far, no winners on my last story, but lets see how you guys do with this one! Love your guys' support lots!~ 3