Cracked

"But, Mum, do I really have to go?" I plead as I rub the piece of paper with my pointer finger and thumb. I hate this piece of paper, it ruined my life.
"Yes, you do, Kalle," She sighs and takes the paper and squints at it through her glasses. "It's the finest Academy in England. I went there myself."
"But Mum, I'll do anything!" I huff and cross my arms. I flop into a chair, knowing I haven't convinced her.
The Academy of Bloody Battle accepted me. Meaning, I'm allowed to set foot into it without being strangled to death. But I don't want to go. Surrounded by bloodthirsty assholes wanting to wring your neck, use you as a dummy if you're not good enough - who sane enough would want to go?

Um, hello, half of my ancestors.
"You'll love it there. You'll make some new friends, maybe fancy a certain someone," She wiggles her eyebrows.
"Mum! Stop making corny dating jokes!"

"Come on, Kalle. You'll enjoy it. Imagine. Instead of taking it out on your brother, you'll find people with common interests to stab dummies!" She chuckles about her joke.

"Why would they accept me?" I groan as I rub my temple as I spread my legs over the chair, leaning my head down to the floor.
"Get up, hon, you'll break your neck."

"Well? Why?"
"I sent them a video of a fight of you and your brother," She responds. "Remember, a couple weeks ago, when you didn't like his girlfriend Sarah? You hurt him badly."

"Well, Sarah was a bitch," I remark.
She nods sadly. "I didn't like her, too. Anyway, let's not get off topic. Go pack up, term begins in a week."
"I can't convince you, can I?" I ask with pleading eyes. She gives me a warning look over her glasses.
My mother is an elderly woman with grey hair and shining blue eyes. Her eyes are an extremely light blue, and give off a young look. I always imagine what she looked like as a teenager.

She's tough and bossy. Hey, I took on some of those traits as well! Way to go, mum.
I can't believe I'm that good, that fucking good, to be accepted into a battle school.

Well, I was almost close to breaking my brother's neck.
I always do that. Pretend to kill him.

It usually works, getting him to do anything I want. Well, pretending to kill my mother would land me without the internet and no social contact and no help at all for a month.
Believe me, I tried when I was 12.

Well, I might as well go.

Notes