HIS FAVORITE GINGER ✓

FORTY-THREE.

...don't let the mean girls take the crown Don't let the scumbags screw you 'round Don't let the bastards take you down...

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Alejandro

A lot of things are causing me discomfort at the moment. I seriously need to pee that I think my bladder is already lacerated. My bladder is not the only thing cutting because a goddamn migraine is chainsawing my brain-the teeth and the noise are making it difficult for me to live. I'm sweating water, sweat and blood at the same time. I feel like eating hot chicken cordon bleu with caviar. There's this odd nausea tormenting my digestive system. My ears are wailing for mercy because Alejandro-bastard who is my namesake-tuned in to Cardi B's cringe-and-puke-worthy rap and voice.

Erebus-fatty-has chased away all the oxygen-even carbondioxide-from the already stuffy backseat and replaced it with caustic fart that can melt cast iron-I bet his insides are decaying. Raphael-toothpick-was competing with Erebus' toxic vapor. His body odor and cancer stick(s) puffs mixed with Erebus' hydrogen sulphide can make my car literally roll on the floor and puke its life force out.

And I'm stuck in between them, with a golden revolver pointed to my occiput, dying slowly.

"Bri, come on." Raphael drawled as he pushes his lanky junk of a body out of the seat and holds the passenger seat where the blonde bone (cone boobs) chic sat chewing gum like a monkey.

Alejandro who had his face glued to the road for the past fifty minutes finally turned his head to his crew. A crooked smile adorned his alarmingly black lips. And no, I don't mean to be sarcastic, they are pure black, with no makeup.

"Brianne is a lesbian, deal with it bruh." Alejandro's low tenor boomed from the driver seat.

Orion gas, I thought with a smirk on my lips. These fuckers are just morons, pure morons. It's been five hours since I've been abducted. Their main purpose is to make me think they've driven me out of town whereas they've only been driving in circles. Thank heavens I've been noticing the same gas station from the corner of my eyes every thirty minutes. No wonder the cows didn't let me sit down beside the door-wait a sec, in movies, the victims sit in the backseat right?-when I would never think of escaping and observe their little game. Of course, they've taken my phone and flung it out of the window making me wonder if these morons are really professionals as they brag because I could easily get tracked down. Nevertheless, it's past midnight and we've been merry-go-round-ing every twenty miles and I'm just waiting patiently for them to drag me out of the car and dump me in some part of the woods or shoot me already. These handcuffs are really hurting.

"She hasn't tasted this meat-"

"Ew." Erebus whined with his puffy cheeks; he reminds me of a flounder.

"Like I was saying," Raphael shot fatty a black look. "Bri hasn't tasted any of this meat that will change her immediately."

I couldn't stand hearing that bullshit part of his bullshit sentence. "You can't change gays, nincompoop."

"Damn."

"Shut your smelly ass up, fathead." Erebus pouted and sank into his seat. "As I was saying, that's like stopping a dog from eating bone. Faggots will always love cocks and muff-divers will always eat vaginas."

"As much as I 100% agree what you just said, I feel like blasting your brains out." Bri muffled in between inflating a gum balloon.

"You're welcome." I replied, smugly dusting my laps.

Alejandro peeked from the driver's mirror. "Didn't even realize the ginger bitch was still in the car."

"My car, POC." I corrected.

"Not anymore." He drifted the car to the side of the road and that was when I put my plan into action. Well, it wasn't really much of a plan but it was awesome anyways. Thank you Master Yoo for all the annoying self-defense classes with your annoying accent-I love Yoo.

With the handcuffs snaking tightly around my wrists, I hung them around the fat wrist of Erebus which pointed the damn gun on my head and twisted it so harshly he let out a deafening scream and smacked it hard on his forehead-hearing his skull crack was refreshing. I am always strangely sadistic when it's time to spar and the sadism is gonna take a turn for the worse when I'm about to save my life.

At the same time of bashing Erebus' forehead, my other leg near Raphael flew up and struck his chin into the backseat and with all the agility in my body, I flung that leg around the upper part of Bri's seat and luckily, it caught her neck.

All these happened within the twinkle of an eye, so fast that they couldn't register it. They excluding Alejandro.

I smirked, ignoring the hot bullet canal of the gun engulfing the tip of my nose. "You know, my name's also Alejandro and you haven't disappointed me at all. I mean, look at your crew. They are worse than failures."

His face was hard as a mad man's erection, except for the twitching of his lips. "Get out." He spat, the gun kissing my nose deeply.

"Awwn, and where's the fun in that?"

He looked down in dismay to see Erebus' revolver pointing to his groin and looked up to see my own blinding grin. I'd coyly picked it up while he wasted precious time staring at me in awe.

"A head for a dick. And no, I don't mean oral sex." I laughed maniacally at my joke that wasn't even funny. Do I even want to die? Here I am, cracking dirty jokes while literally in the face of death.

Alejandro (me), you're gonna be the death of yourself.

Slowly and unknown to Alejandro, again, I rotated my own gun twelve o'clock to directly point at his. Bam, I shot his gun out of his own hands and pushed mine on his head, forcing him out of the door.

On the asphalt, he pleaded to no avail. There was this vile aura mixing with my blood. It was suffocating and refreshing at the same time. As if all the problems in my life will be solved by only one bullet. My eyes, lips, ears, fingers, toes twitched in bizarre euphoria as millions of voices echoed "pull the trigger" inside my head.

The wind in the willows billowed leaves into the scene and everything else was climactic to the core. My six senses were wide awake to every leaf dancing in the breeze, every drop of blood from Erebus' forehead and onto the road tar, every roar of the car engine.

And the blast of the trigger into Alejandro.

The trip home was silent and unnerving. With every heave, every sweat, every oxygen my body metabolized, I felt like dying. The warmth of the mansion immediately I stepped in quaked me down to the tip of my hair follicles.

Everywhere felt hot. The door knob felt hot. The counter on my elbows felt hot. The chilled water from the refrigerator felt hot. The 911 buttons of the telephone on my fingers felt hot. Then, it was as if my head was forcefully dunked into a bucket of water, knocking the wind out of me. My knees felt weak, my head was sizzling, my skin felt numb, my lips were crusty.

Is this what I get from shooting Alejandro? I only bulleted his kneecaps not his skull. Is this karma's way of getting at me for talking that shit to Grayson? For being a rude over-pampered brat? For being insensitive and vile? For being selfish and self-centered?

For being so in love?

My limbs went limp, my brain screeched into an halt, and my lifeless body melted onto the cold tiled floor.

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A standing ovation (and votes) for Alejandro sweet moves, please?