My coach told me that nobody ever remembers the one who came in second.
So, that’s why I stabbed the bitch who came in first.
Well, that’s not the only reason.
You see, mom pushed me into gymnastics, pulled me out of school, and stuck me with a coach who taught me things that would have made Nabokov puke.
Look, unless you’re Mary Lou Fucking Retton, you’re washed up at eighteen.
So, yeah, I lost my shit, and I stabbed her.
She’ll live, but the coach won’t.
I don’t want that disgusting creep touching anyone else.
(He’s mine, dammit! MINE!)