God hates us all

- The title is borrowed but apt -

He gasped for air, out of breathe - nay, his throat was choking something inside was giving up. The refresh button was clicked in the hope that somehow what he saw was not the truth. Quick gaze around, all of the rest were immersed in studies - ah yes the mid terms were around the corner. The one in the glasses looked at him and smiled - he politely nodded, stopped himself from breaking the laptop - no violence he thought. Shut the lid of the laptop and walked out of the room and walked into the other. Handed it back to her, looked at her - told her goodbye - resisted the urge to break her. Left, broke himself.

The smoke circle emerged from his mouth and grew bigger, she put her finger through it and destroyed it. A smile crept on her face, not the cute one he remembered but a rather devious one. He was over thinking this, but he did wonder that if the smoke circle resembled a heart ? His thoughts shrugged, in any case he didn't possess one so all was good , right ? As she disappeared into oblivion, the sinister smile stayed back. Oh cruella devil, what a game you played.

Besides her, what else do he like ? the question bounced off humongous white pillars. Sire, upon investigation we found out he doesn't like wine, replied back a meek voice. A huge stick pointed to a human body - so let his liver be, boomed the voice. What does he like ? friends ? - yes sire - shift him into a foreign country, new people new area and shred his confidence while you do that. Hehehe, snickered the meek voiced one, good plan he thought. Sire, I also found out that he dances a lot and loves to play football, proudly proclaims it to be his life. Take it away from him, take his life - the stick fell on a knee. The cracking of the knee was followed by laughter.

The ball rolled perfectly for him, he kicked it with his entire force - something odd happened, he heard an audible snap. Feeling started disappearing from his leg, he gave it quick rub while hobbling . The corner of his eye focused on the gleaming trophy. Fuck this and be a man, his conscience screamed, he limped for 2 seconds and then soldiered on. The feeling in his leg returned like blood rushing back in a sore area - the shining gleaming trophy was won, the cost for the victory was still unknown.

The cute lady smiled and spoke, walk towards with your knees bent. He oddly smiled, a fake one. She knew that too, he was scared. With his knees bent, he took a first step - searing pain, collapsed on the floor. The doctor tried to help him up, he shoved her to the side, pussy his conscience screamed. He staggered back up, tried it again and fell again. Stop please she said, you can't. Handed him a paper and said this is your bible, worship it for the next 20 days. The rest of the conversation is a blur - all he remembers is MRI - Operation - Meniscus - Football never. It ended on a pathetic note, all i want is to be able to play lady. She politely smiled and patted his shoulder.

They fenced, he would keep losing his technique and leaving open gaps but he didn't know when to quit. The majestic one kept on wining and laughing. The other refused to give up - no one could take his life away, or if you could he wasn't going out without a fight.