Helloooo. My friend ChocoMello has a story called "What's wrong with her," and I thought that the portrayal of a certain character, Rozoa, and her actions were not explained deeply enough. So here I give you the thoughts of Rozoa. May just be a one-shot, may be continued.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I am a hopeless idiot. I'm doing badly in school, my boyfriend was terrible, both of my parents are men, and the only thing I've ever really had feelings for all my life probably hates me now. The only person I've ever loved is pregnant with some random guy's child.
What does she even see in him…? He's an ass who tries to sleep with every pretty girl he thinks is "worthy of his greatness" and he breaks the hearts of unpopular ones, like me. To him, I'm just the "emo" girl in the corner; the one that writes in her little black notebook and waits for the magic to happen. I'd kill him with it if I knew Anya didn't care.
Anya is gorgeous; long blonde hair, exotic green eyes, smooth skin, great hourglass body. I'm just Rozoa; scraggly black hair hidden with a beanie cap, cold brown eyes, itchy dry skin, flat-chested and wiry. She stands clad in leather, her weapon at her waist; a small shotgun, cold and paranoid and staring at the suspicious world around it. I stand clad in cotton tees and denim, my weapon in my arms; my magic notebook, black and plain, stating its purpose of being a "Death Note" to the world. She is well-known, gossiped over, the "bad-girl" that every guy in school wants. I am ignored, dubbed "the school lesbo," the "emo-bitch" that guys avoid.
She hates me now. I know it. I told her secret, and I have every right to be unregretful. She broke my heart; I have every right to make her parents angry at her. She's the one who made me bitchy and cold; I was happy and cute and sweet and in one-sided puppy love. When I heard the mouths whispering pregnancy rumors and saw that she was indeed showing just a tiny bit, I stopped dead in my tracks. Asked to be excused from Lunch and cried in the girls' restroom through the entire period and beyond. Being a bundle of broken nerves because of constant beating and taunting for being "unnatural," I was ready to break down and quit. Take my little book and pen my own name down; reason of death: stabbed in the heart.
But I still love her. She's overwhelmingly bright and interesting to study, I knew her all my life, and she was always intelligent and a slight video game addict. I even like the nicotine and chocolate scent she carries with her everywhere. She's complex and fascinating and fun to study; how many times will her eye twitch when she loses at Final Fantasy? What kind of chocolate does she steal from her mom-dad? Will she ever forgive me for ratting her out?
Surely, she has to…I mean, it's been a few days, and it's almost art class, which is the only class we have together. She isn't looking at me; walking across the room to her usual seat. She sits down; I look hopeful and wave at her. No wave back. Just a glare. She's mouthing something along the lines of "you're gonna die," still glaring. She's fingering her gun…will she, really? Is it an empty threat? I'm keeping my notebook with me in case of a worst-case scenario.