Bloodsport:EmilyVIntro

From Create Your Own Story

You hate it here. You really do.

You know deep down that it's pointless to hate free education and that it's just the people around you that you hate, but it's the fact that there's so many other people here that makes it so unbearable.

"Y'know, Emily, you'd be prettier if you smiled more." The voice to your left says, bringing you back into the fray. You don't even want to look over to Alison right now. She tells you the same thing every day, and - at first, at least - you always told her that there isn't a whole lot going for you that makes you want to smile.

"I mean it. Quit lookin' so down all the time." Alison adds. You know she's fixing her face in her compact. That fucking compact, goddamnit. She spends more time looking at it than she does the board and then she whines about how she's failing the class to you every time tests are handed back.

It's not as if she's wrong, though. You know that much. You've smiled in front of the mirror once, purely by accident, and it was kinda cute. But the bottom line is still that you don't have anything to smile about. But that's something that you'll get back to her on after some more quiet, introverted self-examination.

You hate it here. You've already thought that, but it rings true. You wouldn't even be here if it wasn't for your father's job being relocated back before Freshman year. God, was that a nightmare. You loved it back at your old school. People weren't so... dismissive. And ugly.

You've thought of killing someone before. No, really, you have. Hell, you kill Alison in your head every damn day of the week (including the weekends because you know what, fuck Alison) and you don't even bat an eye. It's just "You should smile mo-" BAM PUNCH TO THE THROAT AND BRUTAL NECK SNAP. Or "Why don't you smi-" BOOM YOUR HEAD IS NOW IN ORBIT FROM A VICIOUS VOSSIAN UPPERCUT.

Ah, senseless mental violence. Your one mental catharsis that you can always rely on. You'd probably have sma-

"Are you even listening to me, Emily?" Alison asks, the sound of her compact snapping shut causing you to jump as you come out of the rant you were just starting in your head. "I said that you'd be much prettier if you smiled more."

"T-thanks." You stammer out. Verbal communication. Damn. Your one weakness. You wish you could be more confident sometimes. But as Alison once said, confidence comes from prettiness and prettiness starts with a smile. And you haaaaaate smiling. Despise it. For good measures, you kill her off once more in your head, bringing this week's count to thirty.

And it's only a tuesday.

Grumbling at your own response, you look down to the worksheet in front of you while Alison turns to talk to whatever vapid friend she's got today.

In 300 words or less, describe the contributions of-

Damnit, another essay question. Second only to Alison is your hatred of these accursed things. If something interesting doesn't happen soon, you might just lose your mind. And if you do, Alison is going to be the first one to feel your wrath, you swear to god.

Before you have a chance to become the hand of justice, though, a massive crashing sound tears through the school and the lights go out. A couple students near you react as you'd expect, with quiet "What the-?"s, and on the other side of the room you can hear a window explode. THAT draws a more startled response from your peers, and you actually squeal a bit. The room falls into silence immediately after, and the intercom crackles as the lights flicker back on.

Well, you were hoping for the day to get interesting...

Bloodsport.
I Am:	Emily V.	I'm In: Room 308.
I Feel:	Fine.
Kills:	N/A.