Three Weeks Before The Funeral

Looking at my work I examine it with no expression. I stare at the jagged scripture and can't help but scowl at it.

It turns out writing is harder than it seems. What with trying to come up with a reasonable plot and spectacular ending, trying to haggle with the length of it, and making it look as effortless as possible... 

Maybe I should reconsider my profession.

Of course I'd never become an author of some best-seller. That's ludicrous!

Besides my hopes and dreams aren't that high. So long as I have food, shelter, and companions I will be just fine with whatever happens to me. And to wherever life takes me.

Harsh wind decided at that moment to slap around my papers and toss them across the green grass at the park.

I stand up and rush around to get them before they flew away. Standing, I grab the first paper off the ground in my left hand, then swiftly do a cartwheel and grab the other one easily.

I twist my head towards the third and last paper rustling and flipping over and over on the grass. The white sheet moving quick as I sprint up to catch it, well, until a black leather shoe stops it with its sole.

I come to a slow stop and stand in front of the person who caught my paper. His body covered in a sleek fitted grey jacket and matching suit pants. 

Underneath the jacket I can see a crisp white shirt and a navy blue tie wrapped around under the collar.

But what I found more interesting is not what was ON him but him himself.

He was hotto.

To say the least his dark black hair and creamy caramel eyes made him look amazing and most definitely swoon worthy.

And when he smirked I almost swooned myself. Almost.

"Thanks." I say curtly. I make my face transform from the peaceful, serene smile to a stern emotionless gaze.

He still held a cocky smirk of confidence when I set my gaze on him. And as I reached down to quickly grab the paper wedged between his shoe, he decided to lean down and put handcuffs on my wrists.

"Cute." I say with a smile. He just shrugs as if to say 'I know.'

And though I didn't really mind the piece of jewelry I just received from this hot guy...

My father nor mother ever allowed me to accept jewelry before the first date.

I strike him with my foot in his mid section making him bend over the slightest bit. I then aim to right cross him only to be stopped by someone from behind me.

I twist around and kick whoever it is who stopped me and duck when a swing from Pretty Boy swishes toward me.

We spare for some time before I end it all with my own move. I call it C.H.O.P. and I will demonstrate it to the class and to these two willing demonstrators!

C- Choke

I immediately straighten my hand and throw it into both the guy's throat. They hold their necks as they choke on air and that gives me the three openings I need.

H- Hit

I turn my hand into a fist and hit them both in the stomach making them go down even more than before. But I was just getting started as I moved to the third letter.

O- Open Fire

This meant well, let me show you. I put my hands up in the fighting position as I angle my leg at their bodies as much as possible without mercy. And dodge any other hits that may be left in them.

But lastly P- Punish. Now that's what took them out.

I now had them on their knees and do two things.

Kick Pretty Boy 2 between the legs and Pretty Boy 1 I gave him the massage of fainting.

I basically hit one of his pressure points as hard as I could.

He fell down like a piece of timber and I dug out the keys of the handcuffs from his pocket.

I sigh and pick up my paper but when I looked up I see a woman in heels looking down at me like a rich girl does at shoes.

Then four other Suits show up and surround me.