Clink Clink Clink The door bell rang again as you looked up at the sky, which had taken on a purplish-pinkish hue. It was time for your tutor to arrive. Time for that shithead to come and disrupt the peace you so desperately craved. Why wouldn't he give up? You'd tried everything: putting live snakes in his clothes, throwing garlic at him to scare the freak out of him, refusing to do homework, tearing up notebooks, insulting him, and putting lizards in his blood supply. Wasn't your effort enough? Wasn't it enough for Richard, that dickhead? Why couldn't he just quit for both your benefits? You'd be free and he'd be rid of you. Then why did he persist? Did he enjoy being tormented or scolding you, which he did every single day for your tiresome, terrible, below-the-belt mischiefs? But that dick never quit or surrendered! What was wrong with him? If only that shit had never been born. You kept grumbling until you flinched, startled by the sudden, sharp thud of books on your table. It was that annoying prickly tutor of yours, the Oh So Great Richard, his arms crossed over his chest, his long hair neatly tied in a ponytail, looking like the all-rounder, finest king of kings, ruler of the world, the god himself, coming here and sitting on the chair in front of your bed, blessing you with the limited time of his to teach you. You thought sarcastically. Fifteen minutes passed with your muttered insults and complaints while Richard waited for you to finish. But enough was enough. He'd given you enough time for your self-loathing and complaints. "Books," ordered Richard coldly, uttering only two words but making it perfectly clear he wanted you to bring your books and begin studying.