Melissa stands near the center, her black tank top clinging to her, shorts hugging her hips, her black-painted toenails digging into the floor. Her jaw is set, eyes narrowed, every muscle taut with anger. Across from her, Stacy faces off, navy tank top and shorts, baby blue toenails flashing as she flexes her toes, arms crossed defiantly.
"Ready to finally get what you deserve, you pathetic bitch?"
"The only thing I'm ready for is to wipe that smug look off your face. You talk a lot for someone who's about to eat floor."
Melissa's hands clench at her sides, her glare unwavering. Stacy smirks, her voice dripping with venom.
"You always were an attention-seeking brat. All talk, no bite."
"Says the bitch who can't even paint her toes right. Try not to cry when I flatten you."
Their toes touch, neither woman backing down. Suddenly, Stacy stomps hard on Melissa's foot.
Melissa lunges, grabbing Stacy's hair, yanking her head back. Stacy retaliates with a sharp slap, then a punch to the stomach. Tank tops are ripped, skin exposed, nails scratching, and teeth bared. The fight is primal—slaps, punches, hair-pulling, even biting as they roll across the floor, both refusing to let the other gain the upper hand.
Stacy manages to pin Melissa down, pressing her bare foot onto Melissa's face, smirking in triumph.
"Who's the bitch now? Say it. Say it loud so I can hear you from up here."
Melissa, red-faced and seething, grabs Stacy's foot, her eyes blazing with fury.
"You think you’ve won? I’m just getting started!"
"Keep talking, bitch, I’ll shut you up for good this time!"
The fight resumes, more vicious than before—shouting, slapping, fists flying, hair tangled between fingers. Neither woman holds back, their hatred fueling every blow.
Melissa's chest heaves as she struggles to rise, her lips split in a defiant snarl. Stacy wipes blood from her mouth, a twisted grin on her face.
"This isn’t over. It never will be."
"Yeah? Bring it any time, bitch. I’ll be waiting."
