I think anybody can agree on this: sometimes just hitting something as hard as you can, rather it be a pillow or a wall- you feel satisfied. That's the reason why men like to fight, it's in our nature. Fight for a girl, money, or just the pure thrill.

I guess my reason was one of the latter.

If there was one thing I knew for sure, was that punching Cole Reynolds would give me immense satisfaction.

I was trying to throw off the guys holding me back. I knew they were just trying to do good for me, keep me out of trouble, but I couldn't see through my rage of red.

I had to get to Cole. He was my only target, the real goal. But there was so much havoc in this small forest, I couldn't spot him anywhere.

I kicked the one in the leg holding my left arm and he stumbled back, almost falling over. Once my left hand was free, I punched the one straight in the jaw holding my right forearm. He fell back onto the floor, almost knocked out. The one that was holding my back already ran away.

"COLE," I announced his name, looking around the woods for him frantically. I couldn't spot him anywhere, just the boys continuing to fight each other. It was like the Rage of Demotis in a bottle.

I scoffed- his little mesgra ass must have ran away. He wouldn't be able to take me on even when I'm not mad and drunk.

"WHAT IS GOING ON HERE!" I hear a strong voice from behind me. We ceased all our actions to the familiar voice. Mr. Roswell commanded our attention,"Everybody, to my office."

Nobody moved an inch.

"RIGHT NOW." He yelled. We all obeyed, myself still in a fit of rage, punching a few trees along the way.

Cole got away. He got his way. That little "fudgenut"; as Annalise would call it, started the fight and wasn't there to finish it. He ran away like the stray dog he is, tail in between his legs. I knew he wasn't even getting in trouble for it because wasn't caught in the fight he created.

Once we arrived to school, we received curious looks from all. I guess I would too if I saw tons of guys black, purple, and blue all together walk into the school led by a mad principal.

Third period was already starting, and we were going to be stuck in Mr Roswell's office for the rest of the day. I've been through his "process" before. He ordered us all to sit down outside so he could interrogate us one by one.

Mr. Roswell sat me down at the very end of the row, unsurprisingly. He wanted to interrogate Darius of Deltora last so he would know all the information first, and if I lied he could try to get me in trouble.

Key word: try.

The man hates me with a passion.

I could definitely say the same.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"When is the ball again?" Veronica asked me.

"Next Friday. Why do you need to know?"

"Oh nothing." She smirked.

"Veronica... what are you planning." My voice was flat.

"Fine, you got me. I was thinking that maybe one night we could sneak into Secora, and I needed to know the date of the ball to plan around it."

"What is a Secora?"

"It's a club, Annalise." Veronica laughed.

I grimaced,"I have never tried xamba juice nor do I ever want to."

"Annalise, you're going to be eighteen in four months! You need to live a little and you need a break."

"But I don't want to drink-"

"Then don't, you can just dance. Possibly meet somebody new... get the Prince jealous?" She winked at me. I gave it some thought. What could go wrong with a little bit of partying? I'm not going to drink, so the only illegal thing I'm doing is sneaking in underage.

I gave in," Not for too long. Only until twelve."

"Three." She smiled.

"Twelve." I narrowed my eyes.

"Two."

"Twelve."

"One."

"Ok fine, one." She smirked as we shook hands.

"Really though, you need to find yourself a boy! Get that Prince jealous!" She called over her shoulder and walked into her class. I smiled and shook my head in a playful manner. I was turning into my classroom until I heard the large doors on the other side of the hallway bust open.

An angry Mr. Roswell was speed-walking to his office. A bunch of guys my age followed him, some limping, holding their arm, bruises all over their face and body.

Expect for Damien. There was not one bruise on his sculpted body. I looked him up and down, again, and there were none. When I then observed his face, he was angry.

So angry.

Damien's walk and muscles were tense as could be. Even the muscles in his face were clenched. His jaw was set, you could tell he was grinding his teeth. I wanted to smooth out his eyebrows because they were so furrowed.

Damien angry was so... hot.

I winced, I shouldn't be thinking such things. He was a Prince, and quite soon a King. Damien's going to go off and marry some princess... rule over an entire kingdom, the largest in the world.

I can't compare to even one aspect of that. I could never become apart of that life: the life of royalty and riches, always getting your way and making decisions that could change people's lives for the good or bad.

To face the facts, I could never become something his life. I turned away with a frown, feeling upset. Also curious to what exactly happened to all those guys back there.

I pushed all my thought aside and focused on my history class. I knew all the answers to every question, and half-way through the class my teacher though I should be bumped up the the fragit level class.

I walked to the office, schedule in my hand, and stopped. The familiar gold letters and dogwood door greeted me.

The door I first met Damien at.

I shook my head to get rid of the quick memory and turned the golden doorknob.