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Lakewood Times

Lakewood Times

Lakewood Times

    “Hurt” by Lavinia Grandt


    Assignment: Describe the first time that a character realizes he is not as smart as he thought.

    He stared ahead in defeat, wondering what could have happened to bring about this turn of events. He did everything right, everything just as he was supposed to, so it couldn’t have been a fault on his part, right?

    He wanted to scream. To shout, to yell, to blame her for this happening to him, but he knew better, he did. Complaining did nothing in the end, he would just be making an ass out of himself. He knew that.

    “… Is something wrong?”

    His eyes shot up to hers—no, call her by her name. His eyes shot up to Grettah’s, those creamy chocolate irises flooding with emotion, and apparently smarts too.

    God—who gave her the right? It’s beauty or brains, not both.’

    “Get out of my face,” he sneered, pushing at her shoulder and standing up, disregarding the hand she held out for him. He made a beeline for the door, all the way across the damn floor, trying his best to tune everything out.

    “I didn’t mean to, really!” Grettah called, her voice silky and full of regret. If he could tell emotions like this so easily, why couldn’t he win one stupid contest? He should have had it in the bag, it was about literature for Christ’s sake, he was smart, wasn’t he?

    Wasn’t he?

    “Hey, Annabelle—!”

    “God, can’t you just shut up?!” He snapped his arm out of her delicate grip, watching her wine and strawberry hair bounce as she flinched. And god, her eyes were so sad. Why did they have to be sad? Of all things they could be, scared, hurt, literally anything, why did they have to be sad? It hurt so much. “I don’t—”


    “No, stop, learn to read the room for once.” Jesus, his eyes burned. He hated that goddamn name so much, but he hated himself more for not telling her to stop using it. “Leave me alone.”

    “But it’s my fault, I thought that—”

    “Well, whatever you thought, you thought it wrong.” He pressed his fingers into his eyes, rubbing white dots into his vision.  “Just, let me go, you clingy idiot.”

    He turned his back towards her, marching to the door and pushing it open. The hallway behind it was dark, with only one light on at the very end.

    Grettah didn’t say anything as he shut the door, rubbing his wet eyes.


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