Rip, rip, tear, scar, mar the perfection of that pretty, pretty face.

Misty had never been pretty, she knew. Skinny, flat, spiky red-orange hair and gangly legs were all she had. No assets to speak of. Oh, yes, she'd told herself a million times, looked in the mirror and told herself that "pretty" didn't matter all the time, but deep down inside, she knew that she would always be the "runt" of the Sensational Sisters.

"Damn her," she muttered. "Damn her, damn her to hell."

She made a final rip to the picture of her, that girl, that stupid little pretty little insignificant little flea! She stopped, panting with contained fury. Shreds of paper littered the floor like so many pieces of confetti, each one holding a piece of her face.

May.

"Damn her. Damn it all."

Misty groaned and covered her face with her hands. This was useless. She couldn't leave, couldn't go, couldn't do anything about it. That stupid May-girl had replaced her and started sweetening up to Ash. Stolen him from Misty, that's what she had done. Stolen him... and Misty could do nothing about it.

Sobbing, she drew her tear-blurred eyes from the shredded paper to a picture on her dresser. Ash stood between Brock and Misty, grinning and waving at the camera, his dark hair as messy as ever. Misty gave a wet sniff and smiled at the picture-Ash. "I love you," she mouthed. The picture-Ash didn't reply, only grinned. Misty sighed. "Why can't you love me back? You just have to become infatuated with that May-girl, don't you, and you've only know her for, what, a few weeks? It's not fair. If only she could just somehow be out of the picture..."

Then a sudden thought struck her. Out of the picture. If she could manage that, then it was likely that Ash would no longer be infatuated with May.

Oh...

A light, devious smile curved her lips. It's funny, she thought, pulling on her coat, how ideas always seem to turn up right when I need them.

With a small gust of wind, she pulled open the door and stepped outside.