"Good Girl"

AUTHOR: Mystic25

SUMMARY: Elizabeth Renfro is a cold manipulative dictator, but no one is born into those characteristics. When was the moment she changed into her cold steel skin?

A/N: Answer to the TBW Competition challenge from Be Boring.

A/N #2: I know I say this a million times but my other fanfics are coming along. I've been getting a lot of good ideas. But with school I haven't been able to get them down on paper. Don't egg me yet, it's coming.

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I was eleven the first time I was thrown over a bridge. My blue school uniform was torn to shreds as I tumbled down jagged rocks into a pile of mud that used to be a river.

The girls who had pushed me stared - with their lipstick and leather micro mini skirts that defied the school dress code. They laughed liked hyenas pitching cigarette butts at me.

I wasn't really hurt. Only a scraped elbow and knee. My paternal grandmother, my only legal guardian– the tramp – told me that my crying was a waste of time. Those girls had a right to laugh at me. I wasn't a 'good girl' only the lowly bitch. I would always see those girls but I would never be beautiful like them.

I went to high school with those same girls. The ones who grew long hairless legs and breasts as big as a soccer balls. I remained the same, blonde, wiry, with breasts that would embarrass a man. Those girls rode around in Corvette's with football players who only wanted their pussy. I saw them pass me while I walked home, their dark glossy lips smirked at me each time they got those guys to drive me to the side of the bridge so that I would have to jump off or get run over.

When it happened on my sixteenth birthday I snapped. I forgot all about beauty and popularity fantasies and dug into my studying. I was laughed at even more by those populars for being so nerdy and dressing like a prude. I graduated with honors from high school then Harvard was not a hard decision to make to escape those sluts and my borish self-righteous grandmother.

I was alienated throughout college, being one of the only few girls school. But my studying was my way out. I learned military strategy from a Physicist who was obsessed with his role in Vietnam. I left college with my graduate degree eight years later. I celebrated my newfound freedom going after high stakes jobs. I was a business executive for two years until I was handed the opportunity to head a covert government project.

I'm no beauty prize today like my dead bony grandmother predicted. But I do fill out nicely in my black Armani suits and I think I can hold my own with the women today, but I really don't give a shit about that anymore.

Dear old decrepit grandma was wrong though. I did get to embarrass the piss out of those girls. I saw them just twenty years ago when they were signing away their bodies to me for this project, desperate for cash. No doubt to keep their dimwitted selves beautiful in old age.

I watched their faces screw up when I told them what kind of things I would be expecting them to carry for nine months.

You're right gramma, I'll never be a 'good girl'. But it's much more tantalizing to be the bitch.

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R/R please