The Girl From Hell.

Reads: 457  | Likes: 0  | Shelves: 0  | Comments: 2

  • Facebook
  • Twitter
  • Reddit
  • Pinterest
  • Invite

Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic

Meet Nicole Stevens. The Girl From Hell.


I watched as the small crowd gathered around us scurried away like spiders. Miss Campbell walked towards us, her face like thunder. I turned to face her, my exppression a picture of innocence. She automatically focused her anger at me, which was rather unfair, although true. But she didn't have to know that.

I smiled sweetly at her, however, evidently the feeling was not mutual. I held her gaze (if you can call it a gaze, it was more of a death look) for what felt like an eternity. Finally, she turned to the person whom she was, rather rudely, standing in front. I couldn't she her face, but by Miss Campbell's tone, it was a much more bearable face than the one she had displayed to me moments previously.

'Emily, are you alright?' Her tone was comforting, motherly. It made me sick.

I knew Emily wasn't going to say anything. If she did, she knows that she would be living in fear for the rest of her high school days.

'Yes, Miss, I'm fine'. Her voice was barely audible and it made me cringe. How pathetic! I rolled my eyes, folded my arms and stared at Emily over Miss Campbell's shoulder. She didn't meet my firm but fierce stare, even though she felt because she visibly flinched. Ha!

Miss Campbell, unfortunately, also, witnessed Emily's flinch and once again rounded on me.

'Now look, Miss Stevens. I don't know what has happened here but I want you stay away from Miss Westwood. Clear?' I nodded my head, energetically, attempting to convince Miss that I took what she said even remotely seriously. She remained unconvinced, but walked away briskly.

I glared at Emily, who, as if on cue, flinched away from me. I laughed out loud. This girl was so pathetic it was actually hilarious! I walked away, my head held high, with a sense of accomplishment.

Immediately, my best friend, Stacey was at my side. We've been best friends for about three years now and I can honestly say, she is the most influencal person I have ever met. She made me realise what a real person was like and what a loser was like. I am so grateful to have met because, and I hate to confess this, before I met her, I myself was a loser.

I know, I can hear you all gasp now. Who would think that in her first two years of high school, Nicole Stevens would be the girl who hid behind her glasses and box fringe? But I was and I hate it now. I burnt any picture that was taken of me during that period. I spent two years being told that I wasn't pretty, smart or talented enough. Well, Ii told them idiots.

Stacey moved next door to me during the summer before Year 9. I was immediately in awe of her. She was a blonde, big boobed bombshell and I wanted to be like her. So, I made some investments. I invested in some straightners, curlers, hair dye, make up and a whole new wardrobe. My parents were relucant, but I was determined.

I turned up at school on 3rd September a new person. My mousy brown hair was now a rich, chocolate brown and curled to perfection, held together with enough hairpsray that could single-handedly burn a hole in the ozone layer. I had a tight fitting shirt, a push up bra, a short, tight skirt and a pair of flat ballet shoes from New Look, as opposed to Clarks as my mother suggested.

It was a miracle. Everybody looked at me, boys stared and blushed furiously when I smiled at them. Stacey was impressed. She latched onto me and changed my personality. Overnight, I became one of the girls that had bullied me in years previously.

It did cross my mind. I knew that you should treat people the way you want to be treated. I knew what it felt like to be on the recieving end of the remarks. But I brushed these thoughts away. I thrived on others misery. When a girl cried because I called her fat, I laughed. When an ugly boy tried to talk to me, I shot him down with a snide comment about his horrendous acne. Overall, I was a bitch. Wait. Was? Scratch that. I am a bitch.

I don't care either. I would rather everybody hated me in secret then hate me in public. I would rather make a girl cry then cry myself. And, I know that this makes me a bad person, but frankly, I don't care. Many people have told me this, even my own mother tried to change me. But there's no way I'm going back to who I was. Never.

I will continue to make losers like Emily's life a living hell. It's their own fault anyway. I was a loser once. And if I can change, why can't they?

Submitted: June 22, 2011

© Copyright 2022 SweetDreams01. All rights reserved.

  • Facebook
  • Twitter
  • Reddit
  • Pinterest
  • Invite

Add Your Comments:



A very interesting take on the prompt ;) Well done, good luck!

Wed, June 29th, 2011 4:22pm


thanks, i wasnt to sure of it:L

Wed, June 29th, 2011 1:14pm

Facebook Comments

More Other Short Stories

Other Content by SweetDreams01

Short Story / Non-Fiction

Short Story / Romance

Short Story / Romance