There’s always that one girl. That one girl we hate. That girl that gets on our every nerve. That girl that burns the flame of anger in our guts, just by looking at their face. Their idiot stupid face. Their face that with that nose and those eyes and those ears. That annoying face. That face that my fist deserves to carve in. This fist that needs release from all the torture. She doesn’t care. She doesn’t know. She doesn’t understand. All the torture we live in, she doesn’t face them. She escapes it every day. All this hate I breathe for what I am, she thinks it’s all fake. She thinks she can fix me—no, us—but she’s wrong. She’s always wrong. But the others believe her, she fools them with her innocence, and it comes that I finally don’t understand the power she has in those crafty hands of hers. She’s deceitful, a lie behind a smile, a sly cat with a dog’s disguise.