The Complexities of Abhorrence and Obsession

You're just a spoiled brat

Those words had stung then, eleven years ago, and they stung no less now. In fact, now they were enough to turn the typically aloof and snobby sixteen year old into a frothing madwoman. From riches to rage in a single thought, a simple memory. Princess glowered and set her pencil down, staring at her sketchpad. She'd done it again, she thought with a sneer.

Her therapist, the only absolution for her crimes as a child came in the form of a criminal therapist who—frankly speaking—wasn't worth the tax dollars he earned, had recommended drawing as a way to mitigate her stress and frustration. Frustration she had adamantly refused existed; frustration that crushed her every time their paths crossed. Even after she'd given up supervillainy, their paths crossed more than the freckle-faced heiress would like.

"Holier than thou bitch..." Princess muttered, drumming her perfectly manicured nails on the desk. Even since that day, she'd always been such a pretentious little brat. No one told Princess Morbucks no! No one...except that kid. She picked up her pencil and went back to her sketching. To be honest, she'd gotten pretty good over the years. She'd taken to drawing a lot.

Of course, she had other hobbies, primarily studying—both academia and her peers. After their last physical encounter, four years ago, Princess had fallen into the habit of competing with her on a different field. She'd learned, the hard way, that no dollar amount could ever overcome them. She was a problem that couldn't be solved by throwing a wad of cash in her face. She'd always been that way...she'd never change. So, where physical opposition failed, mental opposition began. Unfortunately, for the heiress, that was a field in which her adversary was even more formidable. Countless hours pouring over material, entire days wasted on pointless preparations. No matter how hard she tried...there was no closing the gap. With seemingly no effort, she always came out on top.

She always had been the perfect one. The perfect little girl. The perfect superhero. The perfect student. The perfect enemy. The perfect little stuck up, self-absorbed bitch! Princess threw her pencil down and leaned back in her seat, glaring at her sketch pad.

"I hate her..." She muttered. She hated her from the moment she met her. That miserable bitch always came out on top. She never lost...she never even stumbled. She, Princess Morbucks, truly and deeply hated her. It didn't matter that they weren't physically fighting anymore. It didn't matter that she never spoke to her anymore. It didn't matter that they hadn't clashed in over four years. She hated her.

So why had she just spent the last hour thinking about her?

And why was her sketch pad riddled with doodles of her?