Authors notes: Hi guys! This is my first fanfic, so please don't hate. Actually, scratch that, any comments will be appreciated! Tell me if it sucks, if it's good, ect. Hey, make Christmas come early and review it for me!
My vision went red. I lost what little calm I had. I tackled him, and when he was on the floor, began hitting him. Blood streamed from his nose. The chants and laughter quickly turned to shouts and screams.
Yeah, well, they've learnt not to insult me. Or my family.
I placed my hands around his neck, strangling him.
"What do you say?" I snarl, imagining his face, starved of oxygen.
The boy groans and gurgles. I tighten my grip around his neck.
"You . . . uh-uh-ih-idiot." He chokes.
I tighten my hands even more.
I can see the fear in his eyes, and suddenly, all I feel for him is pity. Sheer pity. But it's not like I would have killed him, anyway. I'm above that sort of thing, even though it happens here. Students have killed other students.
"And how, exactly, am I an idiot?"
He spits at me. A feeble attempt – his saliva dribbles down his chin. Or maybe he isn't trying to get at me. Maybe he's trying to speak. I loosen my grip slightly so he can talk.
He gasps for air, and then looks me in the eye.
"You trust the wrong people. Your parents are dead. Your mother, Your father-"
"-Is death itself." I cut in.
Momentarily thrown, he gawps at me.
"What?"
"My father isn't dead," I pause, "He's death itself."
He begins to chuckle. I admit, I must sound overly-dramatic, but perhaps he's forgotten the situation he's in. I tighten my grip again, much tighter than before, and I see him panic. But he doesn't fight, or thrash, or move. He's just accepting the fact that he could be about die. And . . . he's just accepting it.
He's not even putting up a fight. I hear heavy foot-steps approaching, getting nearer by the second.
I bend down very gently, and whisper in his ear.
"I pity you."
Then I sit up, with his blood on my face. I let go of him, and his lips lose the blue tinge. He's gasping for air, like he never really realized how good oxygen tasted until his stupid little brain was deprived of it.
We sit there, together, enemies, still and quiet, surrounded by other shocked students.
I sit frozen, even when strong hands come to haul me away to be punished by Lord Death. I remain motionless.
I don't care. I want them to take me away.
I am sick of this school.
I am sick of the stupid DWMA.
The four people that take me away lead me down a grey corridor. Three of the four cannot look at me, as if I have wronged them, or caused them a great deal of pain. Do I even know these people? One or two might be trainers or teachers here.
When I'm fighting I usually look for a weak point in a person – their neck, the small of their back, even the back of their knees. When I'm fighting a group I usually have to find the weakest of the group.
I can easily tell who it is here. The red-haired man. He can't even acknowledge me. It's like I'm not there. At least when the other two of the four make eye-contact, they quickly look away!
"So," says the fourth person, a woman in bandages, flicking through some papers she's holding. We pause at a door.
"According to records, you've been to see Lord Death for punishment," she falters, and her blue skinned partner looks over her shoulder, and whistles.
"Even your parents weren't that bad, and trust me, your dad got in some pretty bad fights-"
"My parents? Don't you mean my dad?"
The blue man coughs, and looks away awkwardly.
The red-haired one looks like he's about to have a breakdown.
"Spirit." the one with glasses and the oddball screw speaks for the first time, in a warning tone. But the one with the glasses doesn't look too great either. He looks like he's about to cry.
"Well," says the blue one, "Good luck, kid. Up you go. You better have a good excuse. . ."
. . To what? Explain myself? To Lord Death?
I'm about to come face to face with Lord Death. Big Deal. They just think I'm scared. No chance in hell. I've seen Lord Death so many times; I could remember his funny mask, silly voice, and huge hands since I was young. In fact, I've seen him too many times, for good and bad reasons.
So, you know what? Lord Death can do his worst.
He's my grandfather. He doesn't scare me.
More Authors notes: So, what do you think? Short, I know, but when I was typing this up from my written version, I realized I never made proper chapter breaks, ect, so I just had make them where appropriate, so this was the best one I could find without having to type up about seven more pages!
So, comments, suggestions, reviews (if you're lovely!) all welcome. And also, even though the main character (you'll find her name later) seems really heartless, in later chapters you'll realize she's kinder than that. Ox Ford jr was being an idiot like his father (that's the kid she was beating up) and insulting her and her family (you'll meet them later, I'm sure you'll be quite familiar with them), Okay, bye now!