Short Stories


She still doesn’t know the truth, and if I told her it would probably drive her further over the edge than I already had. I think I understand now when my coach once told us, “I’d rather you trust me than love me.”

She still believes I’m the nice guy, man-of-her-dreams type of whatever. But I said some of the worst things online about her and other girls. I don’t hate girls, not really, I just wish these damn feminists weren’t so uptight about their views on men. I’m entitled to the same rights as them, right?

The cops haven’t determined if it was an accident or on purpose. The way she drove off the road, without a seatbelt, I’m not so sure. It’s just like a girl to make herself into a victim. Sabrina probably got her to do it. Last year, she convinced everyone to throw a pity party for her when Jack called her “fudge pudge” on her wall.

I guess I should get her flowers or something. At least that’ll make her feel a little better. She’ll probably stay offline for a while, it’s for her own good really. I’ll tell Jack and the others she just doesn’t have the sense of humor I thought she had. We’ll move on to someone who does. It’s just for the lulz.

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