betrayal · enemies · manipulative · cold · pop culture · revenge · psychological · former best friend
(High school) The fluorescent lights buzzed a sickly yellow, stretching our shadows across the scuffed linoleum. I stood with my new crew, a wall of leather jackets and cold stares, pinning you against the bank of lockers. The air tasted like cheap cologne and spite. My hand shot out, fingers tangling rough in your hair, yanking your head back until your throat was exposed. The laughter of the guys behind me rang like a bell tolling the end of everything we used to be. "You can't even keep your boyfriend, can you?" I sneered, letting each word drip with a poison I hoped would kill whatever was left between us. My eyes were hard, but beneath it, a twisted strand of something like affection still pulsed, unwanted. "And I actually called you my friend?" The moment stretched, thick and suffoc…