Not Their Kind Of Beauty

Prom day...

DONNA

All hell had broken loose and I was now an unhinged diva waving a hockey stick at two perfectly manicured girls.

"Stay the hell away from me!" I yelled, swinging the hockey stick wildly at Tiffany and Heather as they charged towards me. They dodged my attack, and instead of taking my warnings seriously, they had a reaction that stung me. The look of cruel amusement on their faces, and the ridiculing laughter at my expense hurt far more than I let on. But I didn't care. I was done. I was done being the pitiful Donna who let others toss her around like a rag doll. This was going to end with only one of us left standing.

This was not how I envisioned my junior prom to be. Here I was, in a ripped tulle ball gown with a bleeding nose, in the boys' hockey locker room, facing off against two meanies who were out for my blood. I looked like a total mess. When I left my house for junior prom, I had worn the most beautiful dress my dad picked out for me-a stunning lilac tulle ball gown that made me feel like a princess.

My sister, Dahlia, had styled my hair nicely into a messy bun with loose tendrils, which made my plain-looking face stand out. Then she did some nice step-by-step makeup on me, opting for a bold look with metallic eyeshadow and classic red lipstick. She really took her time, and I remember gasping in awe and smiling so widely when I looked in the mirror. I genuinely felt beautiful for the first time. I had even gotten a date for prom. Me-the plus-size duckling, got asked to prom by a guy who had been way out of my league just a few weeks ago.

But now I looked like the Joker's bride, with my mascara running down my cheeks, my metallic eyeshadow poorly spread across my face, my red lipstick smeared uglily at the corners of my lips, and my once elegant buns sticking out on all sides like a witch's toothbrush.

It's ironic how quickly this night went from a fairytale to a nightmare. I should have known good things don't come that easily to girls like me.

"Back off!" I yelled again, swinging the hockey stick towards Tiffany's face, barely missing her nose as she dodged my attack.

It was pouring heavily outside, but I could still hear the loud music bursting from the school hall directly opposite this building. I was supposed to be in there, slow dancing with my date, but here I was, trapped in a game of cat and mouse.

"Looks like Donna, the timid duckling finally grew a spine," Tiffany said with an amused chuckle. I could see it in her eyes that she was enjoying this show I was putting on. She wasn't scared or intimidated. Heck, she felt untouchable. That was the kind of person Tiffany was.

"Put the hockey stick down, Donna, before you hurt yourself," Heather added in a tone that was far from empathetic. This sidekick of Tiffany's was in no way different from her. They were cut out of the same cloth.

Tiffany took another daring step toward me-Her black, fitted mermaid-style gown hugging perfectly around her body, looking far too angelic for someone as evil as her.

"Do you honestly think I'm threatened by the likes of you?" She let out a demeaning laugh, still making headway towards me.

"Don't you dare come any closer!" I swung the hockey stick, and it grazed Tiffany's cheek. She screamed, stumbling back and clutching her cheek, while Heather's eyes widened in shock. I guess they stupidly believed I was bluffing. Of course, sweet little Donna wouldn't really hit them.

Heather lunged at me, and I swung the stick again, and it landed on her arm. She groaned in pain, rubbing her arm as she retreated. I could feel the fury in Tiffany's eyes as she removed her hand from her cheek, looked at her hands, and saw a little blood on it from the small cut my little stunt had left on her cheek.

I smirked, feeling the sweet taste of justice in my mouth. I was going to be the villain of this story, whether they believed it or not. But before I knew what was happening, I felt two legs strike my back from behind. My knees snapped, and my head collided with the cold, hard lockers. I fell on my stomach, and the hockey stick flew from my hands, clattering to the floor. I groaned in pain for some seconds before rolling onto my back, and I saw that two other girls I recognized had entered the locker room, surrounding me.

I was now a lone wolf surrounded by four hyenas. I was terrified by their number, and my head hurt, but I had to put up a good fight. I crawled on my knees to grab the hockey stick, but as I stretched my right hand to reach it, Heather stepped on my hand with her heels. I screamed at the top of my lungs, bawling in pain.

Pushing through the pain, I grabbed Heather's leg with my other hand, sinking my sharp nails into her skin. She shrieked, taking her leg off, then sent a slap flying to my face. The other two girls grabbed my hands, forced me up to my feet and took me to where Tiffany was standing.

"You think you're tough, don't you?" she said, squeezing my face between her fingers. Then she pushed my face away and said, "Stomp on her."

My heart rate accelerated to a 100 degrees when I heard those words. Stomp on me? Was tonight really going to be my last?

Heather took her phone out in excitement and began filming as the two girls came forward like puppets on strings, pushing me onto the floor. Soon enough, my body was being stamped on by their bare feet. They began to kick me and stamp on me all at the same time, all over my body, while Tiffany watched with folded arms, and Heather cackled and filmed. I curled up into a ball on the floor and raised my hand to protect my head and face, crying out in pain as I felt the impact of each stomp on my ribs and hands, but they wouldn't stop.

I could feel the metallic taste of my blood in my mouth as I attempted a desperate cry for help-but my words failed me. Every breath was a struggle. The act of breathing itself made my pain worse. I forced myself to move-to escape this torture-but my body wouldn't budge.

"Lift her up," Tiffany ordered, and her lackeys held my hands and roughly forced me to my feet. She picked up the hockey stick from the floor, twirling it as she walked towards me. "Whenever you think of this moment, it will serve as a reminder of why you should never mess with me."

She lifted the hockey stick up in the air. Just as she was about to strike me, she was interrupted by the sound of the locker room door bursting open. The girls turned towards it with a startled look, Tiffany lowering the hockey stick.

There stood my date-by the door, in a navy blue tuxedo, soaking wet from the rain, his once slicked back hair dripping with water. His eyes widened in horror as he took in the sight.

"Get away from her!" he growled, his voice competing with the thunder outside. Lightning flashed at that moment, highlighting the veins bulging on his forehead.

Tiffany's lackeys let go of my hands, and I leaned against a locker for support. I saw different emotions surge through him all at once-fury, agony, and a murderous rage. I had never seen him like this before. It was like Tiffany, Heather, and the other two girls had been struck by lightning because the room was now as quiet as a graveyard. As he walked towards us, leaving wet footprints on the floor, they backed away, like the parting of the red sea.

When he got to where I was, his murderous gaze softened as he looked at me. Then his cold hands gently reached for mine and intertwined them with his. "I'm here now," he said, his voice barely a whisper, as he caressed my cheeks.

I nodded, my tears dropping onto his thumb.

"You're not going to get away with this." he said before turning to face them.

Then his next words were drowned out as my vision grew blurry. It felt like the whole room was spinning in front of me. I clutched my chest, taking shallow gasps, as I felt my chest being compressed inside of me. My hands slipped away from his, and with a thud...I collapsed to the floor. I could faintly hear him screaming my name as he fell beside me, holding me close.

How did we get to this point?