Seems Like a Nice Time for Homicide

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Waking up is tough. Every morning it feels like an invisible force is holding to my shabby cot. But life is like that. Trauma. A suitcase in disguise, it strikes blindly out at me. Ah, the weight of the light sits heavily on my sweat-soaked chest as I lift myself up to face the day ahead

I walk to school. The hot boys who usually ignore me suddenly surround me, pressing me into the trees. God I love them so much. My heart dies every time one of them lifts a finger at something. My eyes widen as the love of my life, Harry Styles, approaches me.

'Are you Grenadine Woods?' He asks huskily

'Uh... y-ye-' I'm cut off

A branch hurtles through the air and stabs him

' HAHA BITCHES!' a voice sounds

I growl lowly, I freaking hate that rat

'I HATE YOU' I scream at Nick Fury, the schools resident bitch ass hoe

Just as he throws his arm to throw a mean punch at me a strong hand wraps around my waist and pulls me to safety.

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