It honestly hadn't mattered who's shoe you were standing on. As soon as the two teens got close, their pounding steps shook you clean off and right onto the floor. You tried to move, of course, but that also hadn't mattered.
The girl's foot found you first, kicking you and sending you spinning. Then it came down, turning the left side of your body to mush under her flat. It missed your head though, leaving you a screaming mess, thoughts fogged by pain you hadn't ever considered possible.
Then she left. As he jammed his foot into the shoe, it slid just a bit to his left. That was more than enough, placing his shoe's heel right over your ruined body. The sole, worn nearly smooth by repeated use, came down. There were a few rocks stuck in little cracks and crevasses, and what remained of your rational mind hoped beyond hope that you'd get caught and saved, trapped but unflattened.
You weren't. The rubber was unyielding as it came down, and the rest of your remains were turned into a red splotch.
Some of it stuck to the sole, but the rest remained among the footwear. It was trampled upon by sock, shoe, and bare foot alike in the next week, until it stopped resembling even a blood stain.
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