Chapter 9 of I Hate Wonder Woman

(A/N: sorry about the long wait and the shortness. That's how it is when I'm watching Asian dramas. :3 1 Liter of Tears is sad... Especially when they show pics of the real girl. :'[ Should I watch LIFE or You're Beautiful next? I'm thinking LIFE because I liked the manga, but I can't find it anywhere any recommendations for Sad/funny?.)

I leaned over the pool, filled four feet deep with mud, grinning amusedly. Flecks of mud splattered on my shirt as two dudes were wrestling. This was really strange, and I was thirsty.

I looked over at Fang and Iggy. Fang just looked like Fang, and Iggy was staring impishly. Judging by how little time I had known him, and the fact that I already realized this, that was not good. Something would probably end up exploding of catching on fire, and I did not want to see that. I attracted enough trouble as it was. It was like I somehow had a trouble magnetism or had a bright, blinking sign advertising all the jerks to come piss me off.

With a grunt, one of them disappeared under the mud. I yawned. It was ten thirty, and I was bored. Really bored. And thirsty. And bored. And maybe a little tipsy. But not really.

I wasn't going to get hammered, like Iggy, that definitely wasn't my scene. But I was still thirsty, so I went to the kitchen to find myself a drink.

I went in the back door and was shocked. The parties size had really grown, even though that seemed impossible. Damn, tree were teenagers everywhere. Everywhere. They were grinding and dancing by the pool-side, by the speakers, some dancing in the water. Even this 'early' there were a few scattered 'peers' passed out on the lawn. I turned one of them over gingerly, because they seemed in danger of, ahem, choking in their 'expulsion' (re: puddle o' puke). Inside wasn't much better. It was practically a mosh pit, but with mainstream music, which I wasn't a huge fan of. I preferred alternative or rock. Some indie. And Nirvana. But I wasn't like Fang, with his heavy, screaming, grinding, rip-my-heart-out-and-take-a-bite music (A/N: BEST. EVAR. max is second to fang in music.) or Iggy's, rap, all sex, drugs and money. Besides that, there were people smoking, drinking, yelling and fighting. Pure chaos. And I don't want to think of the shady dealings and sniffing and 'cuddling', to be polite, going on behind the many closed doors of this mansion.

On my way to the kitchen, I meritied quite a few glares as I shoved my way through many couples grinding on each other. Yuck. When I finally got to the kitchen, Lord of the Rings worthy, the place was filled with a handful of stoned juniors and seniors, smoking and making out. I turned away, and shuffled around for some juice. When I couldn't find any, I began to rummage in the fridge for some soda.

"Hey," Came A husky voice from behind me that I vaguely recognized. "Looking for something?"

"Yeah." I snapped. "A drink. Piss off." I slammed the refrigerator door shut and wheeled around. It was one of the football players that had attacked us a few days ago, Michael something or other.

"No." Michael slurred. I knew he was drunk, and quite so. The smell of liquor, not just beer radiated off him and he was swaying on his feet. "Wanna...wanna dance?" There was a malicious undertone to his voice.

I heard the strains of music, not my type, and neuter was Michael. He even smelled of trouble. "No. No thanks. Now buh-bye." I started to turn to go out and find Fang and Iggy, when he grabbed my arm.

"Tease." He spat angrily. "Come here."

I struggled against his arms and he dragged my towards the stairs. I tried to fight him off, but my shoulder injury made it hard and I didn't want to rip more stitches.

Michael began to drag me up the modern metal and wood staircase, the rest of the party completely oblivious in their blissful, drunk bubbles. Midway up the stairs that led straight to the third floor, Michael shoved me hard against the railing, hurting my back and moved closer to my face. His whiskey tinged breath was damp and terrible. He pushed me farther against the railing, and I had to work my feet and hands between the bars just not to fall off. He tried to shove his face onto mine, but I turned my head away.

He grabbed my cheeks hard with his beefy hands and whipped my head to face him. That was probably going to leave at least a small bruise. "Listen up," Michael growled. "Don't do that again, bitch." My blood reached boiling point. No one, but no one called me that. Michael tried to move in again, to shove his kiss me, but I realized that I was close enough, and I gave him a hard knee right in his english tea bags.

"Bitc-" He screamed as I ran up the stairs. I didn't look back to see him, but he was probably on his knees in pain. Judging by the stream of swears barely audible over the music, I was probably right. When I finally reached the top of the long stairway, I looked around for a place to go. Damn, the place was huge. There was a long hall, and it looked like another hall branching off of it. Several doors also lined the corridor. It was a lot more quiet up stairs, as we were two stories from the party. I had no idea where floor two was.

I took a few cautious steps forward, looking for a door to enter that didn't seem occupied. I heard heavy footsteps behind me and wheeled around.

Crap. It was Michael.

"I'm gonna get you, whore." He growled.

I chuckled as I took off at a run down the hall. That sounded so cheesy. I rounded the corner, to find a dead end balcony only ten feet ahead. Crud. There were two doors in this part. One had loud noises coming from it, didn't want to know, and was locked. I tried the other door. It was simply a linen closet, filled with towels. Where could I go? I checked to see if there was room to fit me, but it was too late.

Someone grabbed my arm and yanked me backwards. 'Ouch' I thought. 'That smarts!' On the outside though, I only let out a small yelp, which made him grin.

"Screw off!" I screamed. "Jerk!"

"What did you call me?" He snarled, stepping closer and cracking his knuckles. That was only fuel to the fire.

"I called you an asshole, dick!" I shouted. I stepped closer to him also. I was ready to fight. I don't care how many stitches it ripped out. This jerk was going down.

"You're dead now." Michael whispered murderously. He lunged at me, but I had anticipated it and dodged him with the fluid ease of a swimming eel. Again, he went at me, this time with his fist. Again, I dodged him. No one seemed to have noticed our duel yet. I swung at him with my good arm, and it hit him square in the jaw. Shock reverberated through my arm, and I paused to shake it out; otherwise it would be useless. This time Michael got lucky, he didn't hit my though. Instead, he grabbed me, pinning my arms effectively behind me. He was a pretty good fighter for a knocked-down drunken kid. As he shoved me forward, onto the balcony, I could feel my stitches tugging at my skin. Michael threw me stomach first against the rail and I held on tightly. "You're going to pay, you skank." He growled throatily. I heard a clicking noise, and then a second later, something cool and thin was against the back of my neck! It dawned on me.

Holy crap! It was a knife. This unko tare was actually serious! Unable to stop myself, I had to let out a scathing remark in Thai, which was considered the worst of the worst. "Sa'wa". I muttered.

"What did you call me?" He shouted, obviously assuming it was bad. Which it was.

"I called you worthless scum, you window washer," I spat, switching to British. "Sod you!". Of course, this probably would be very offensive, even more so to any brits nearby.

Michael didn't even respond, just dug the knife a bit into The back of my neck. It wasn't enough to draw blood, luckily. "Apologize." He ordered.

"No." I replied. A small crowd had gathered at the balcony 30 feet down. What a distance. It was really high. Some people were looking up worriedly, others just laughing, thats how drunk they were. I was desperately trying to distract myself, when I felt the cool bite of the blade in my skin. I bit my lip. This ass-hat was really going to kill me! I felt blood, and heard him laugh sadistically. I felt it begin to press down on my neck again. Before he could do more damage, I had to make a split second decision before he dug to deep of hit a vein/artery.

If I did this move, there were two ways I could easily die or seriously injure myself, one way to survive.

Okay. Two to one... But that was better than my other odds.

I kicked my feet outwards, hitting him in the stomach hard enough to make him hit the wall. Sadly, with the momentum, I swung over the rail. I dangled, helplessly thirty feet above the ground.

I was attempting to pull myself over the ledge to safety, but Michael stood up. Ohno. Oh no. He placed the knife on my fingers and began to saw!

"Max!" Cried several voices! "Just drop!"

What the-? I swiveled my head to see Fang, Darren and Iggy, holding their arms in a makeshift platform.

What choice did I have? I dropped.