Chapter Two

“No way! You got yourself a retarded fag?!”

Zaiden stopped walking.

“That’s just rich, Steele!”

He turned around, his hand closing into a tight fist. Mickey turned and stood behind him, obviously somewhat afraid. His eyes fell on the “leader” of the boys and he stared him down, refusing to so much as blink.

“Oh my god, look at this! Hahaha! I think little Zaiden’s angry, you guys. Be careful. He might hurt us up real bad!” the boy said mockingly.

Stay here, Zaiden signed to Mickey, not even bothering to turn around or break eye contact. He stepped forward, no longer feeling any sense of fear regarding the boys. As he took the last few steps across the abandoned parking lot, the group of boys began to chatter amongst themselves, laughing and pointing at him. He couldn’t hear what they were saying. It wasn’t that they weren’t loud enough, he was just too angry to comprehend their words. He stopped when he was close to a foot away from the boy in front.

“You can say whatever you want about me, but don’t mess with my cousin,” Zaiden warned, his voice low and dark.

“Your fucking your cousin? Dude! That’s disgusting!” The guys laughed but Zaiden stayed silent, still staring directly into the eyes of the boy that he hated more than anyone he’d ever met. The boy looked around the group as they laughed, then back to Zaiden, noticing for the first time the intensity in his eyes.

“Stop staring at me, Steele. I don’t want your faggot ass thinking about me like that. That’s what your cousin’s for.”

Zaiden’s hands were both clenched in fists now, his fingers turning white from the pressure, and he was beginning to find it hard to breathe. He wasn’t sure when the last time he felt this angry was, if ever.

“I’m not playing. Leave him alone.”

“Hey! You don’t seem to get it! I’m not scared of you, freak! I’ll do whatever the hell I want, and nothing you say or do is gonna change that. I’ll beat the shit out of you and your retard cousin! And the best part is, he won’t even hear me coming!”

The three other boys didn’t even had time to react to what their friend said before Zaiden tackled him, knocking him backwards onto the asphalt. The boy’s head hit the shoe of one of the guys around him, protecting it from the hard ground, which would have almost certainly cracked his skull at the momentum with which he fell.

Zaiden was on top of him then, sending fist after boney fist straight into the boy’s nose, over and over and over again. He got in a good seven punches before one of the other boys worked past his shock of what was happening and grabbed Zaiden by the collar of his shirt. His fist was barely closed around the soft fabric when Zaiden spun around, standing back up, and socked him in the eye, then turned back rapidly, bringing his elbow into the other side of the boy’s head as he did. He stumbled to the side, head pounding and vision blurry.

One of the other two guys swung at Zaiden then, but he was already dropping back down, sending all of his weight into his knee as he brought it down on the first boy’s abdomen. The boy closed in on himself and coughed up a small puddle of blood. Zaiden spun around, leg out and hands braced against the asphalt, sweeping the legs of the boy who had just tried punch him. The boy fell sideways, onto his ribs, and a nasty cracking noise filled his ears as several of his ribs broke on impact.

Zaiden stood back up and sent the hardest kick he could muster into the groin of the first boy, sending him into a fetal position and shutting him up after his initial, feminine scream. The second boy came at him once again, not having learned the first time, at all apparently, as he grabbed the fabric at Zaiden’s shoulder. Zaiden swung his arm around, grabbing the boy’s wrist, and then quickly brought his left palm up into the boy’s exposed elbow. The boy let out a howl of torment as a piece of bone tore through the skin of his arm.

Zaiden let him go and the boy backed away, the first smart decision he’d made all night. Zaiden turned, his breath rough and rapid, and glared at the last of the four boys who had just stood there and watched the entire scene. He stared at the demonic looking Zaiden for a moment more, attempting to close his mouth, and then finally turned and ran.

Zaiden just stood there, attempting to catch his breath and calm down, and finally turned and began walking back towards Mickey. His eyes were glued to the ground, still kind of out of his mind. He looked up then and froze. Mickey was staring at him, tears welling up in his eyes, and an expression on his face like he didn’t even know him.

And Zaiden’s heart broke.

The first thing Zaiden was consciously aware of was a drop of rain splattering across his cheek. His eyes scrunched closed tighter before finally fluttering open. The sky was white, as if there had been no storm at all, and everything seemed to be as silent as it had been just before the hail began to fall. There was a stinging pain in his head, where he had hit the ground, and an almost equally dull pain in his back. It was the kind of soreness that one feels the day after a long work out session. His entire spine radiated with such a feeling.

He could see movement to his sides, as others started to wake up as well. Perhaps they had already been awake, and he was just now noticing their movement for the first time. However, he himself had not moved yet. It had been a good ten seconds at least since he’d opened his eyes. He just laid there, trying to figure out what had just happened. The entire experience was like nothing he’d ever witnessed or heard of before.

Zaiden finally began to sit up, putting a hand to his lower back as the pain there grew with his movement. His face scrunched up with the pain and he took a deep breath. His eyes raised to their now conscious parole officer, who looked no better off than Zaiden felt. He seemed to be having a sort of facial spasm, his jaw and head twitching every few seconds for a minute or so until it finally stopped.

Zaiden forgot all about his pain for a second as he watched Peter, not sure how to respond.

What had just happened?

The horizons were peeling back into blood red space, ripping apart, membrane breaking and straining, splitting, ribs grinding together, sockets burning, tearing. The universe was pulling itself back from his eyes, leaving them half aware, hazy… drifting in and out, pupils black, expanding, retracting… a ship tossing against a Caribbean blue sea.

Static. White noise. A hiss of a half heard radio-broadcasting. A voice breaking, pitching, fading in and fading away. Sirens. They screamed, breaking into gasps of steam, the clank of car engines. A bleary oblivion settled and suffocated, inhaling all the oxygen out of the air, coaxing it out of quivering lungs… softly, shallowly.

Heart beats. Soft thuds against the insides of cages.

Belly leaking warmth… velvet and red.

He inhaled, metal, steam, oil… gasoline… all at once he’d become a machine, a ticking piece of clockwork, gears churning, pistons pumping, exhaust sputtering into the air. Burning rubber… black grease oozing from his broken parts.

His forehead was pressed against the wheel, the curve of it digging into the softness of his cheek.

Solidity.

.........

“Get on the bed.” Hands were closing around his wrists, circling, tightening, pushing him back and the world was reeling in a drunken spin, he was falling backwards folding in under the weight of a warm body on top of him. Sheets, the tightness of the cassock around his waist, kicking, the inside of his thighs sliding up against stronger hips as they were forced between in legs.

Reality came in spiraling visions, soft smirks, sweat, and heavy breathing, choir… pianos, money.

“Stop it.” The words left his tongue, but felt heavy in his mouth, resonating inside his own head tampering away into an ache of sound.

“Shhh… shhh. You’re beautiful, darling.”

His head was turning away, breaking the gaze of those dark hazel eyes, arms encaging his vision, cradling his head, stroking back soft dark bangs, pushing them out of his face.

“Look at me.”

The world churned again, the ceiling rippled and rolled back, his back arched. “Keith!!!” he twisted his wrists and the shout for help was only half hearted, his voice sounded a thousand miles away.

“Shut the fuck up.” A suffocating palm enclosed over his mouth. “Shut… the… fuck… up.”

The touches became furious, hurried, rushed. His collar was being pulled at, tugged at, jerked hard, undone, he was wrenched forward, savagely, as the small wooden cross around his neck was gripped tightly. The hand slipped from his mouth, loosening, a thumb lowering to trace his lower lip and Luke could see that face… for half a moment, that strong jaw those brown eyes, the sweat beading on that temple.

“God will forgive us…”


.......


He was spilling.

Fingers were stained. His blue gaze trembled and fell weakly, traveling down… down… down. A hand pressed, blood gathering, warmth, wet, hot… spilling.

Help.

Breath left his lungs and rolled up his throat, and he tasted metal, it ran from the corner of his mouth in a crimson line, it drew across his jaw, dripped down his chin and into his lap. The window was shattered, shards of glass sprayed across the seats, imbedded in his left hand, lodged into his belly…

“Are you alright? Kid, are you alright?” Someone was shouting at him, he could see a splintered face in the reflection of the glass imbedded in his side.

“Laurie, help me move this. Help me move this… He’s breathing… no. HOLD it, it’s gonna fall.”

There was a creaking wrenching bending of steal as the driver’s side door was opened, slowly, bit by bit, and he felt his body slide, slipping down before he was caught by a pair of arms, holding him tightly, trying to support his weight.

“Laurie… get his arms. LAURIE.”

His head fell sideways, his body limp as he was pulled from the seat into the damp morning air. His arms were pulled, muscles stretching, frame contorting from the hold of his two rescuers… and he could suddenly feel the glass in his stomach.

A guttural scream tore up his throat, and his eyes welled with pained tears, his world spinning,

“Oh god, set him down, set him down!”

He slipped a few inches in the hold of the people dragging him to safety, and they lowered him down as gently as they could, one of them holding his head off the asphalt. The rocks and gravel littering the intersection pressed into his back.

“He’s a priest?”

“Too young.”

“He has a collar and cross, is that a scapular?”

........

His wrist was held, squeezed till the blood rushed to the tips of his fingers, making them tingle, shocks of tactile sensation drowning out the discomfort of the weight between his legs, bearing down on him and his hand was made to drag across a strong abdomen, lower.

“Touch me.” Breath tainted with the heavy scent of alcohol fluttered against his neck, sent shivers down his spine. “Take off my belt.”

His world lurched and his eyes rolled shut, and he saw blackness, enveloping, wrapping him into a numb silence. He was shaken from his haze, made to look into wide brown eyes, pupils black as night, drawing him into holes of space, eating and eating… devouring him from the inside out.

“Take off my belt, and I’ll let you pass out, honey.”

Luke’s words dried up in his throat, catching in his lungs before they lingered at the back of his tongue. “I can’t… I can’t…” the ceiling of the bedroom pulled away, churning, and his head lolled back, his eyes starting to close.


......

“LUKE!!!”

His name broke through the static, through the steam, through the chirp of car alarms and squeals of approaching sirens, it shattered his haze, brought reality crashing down around him, drenching him with the sounds of people shouting, screaming, crying…

“Luke!”

He turned his face, feeling the warmth at his belly, and he saw Brother Keith, his black robes billowing out behind him, messenger bag under his arm, his dirty blond hair flying back from his face, his eyes widened with concern, fear… love. The slender man, dropped to his side, the hems of his cassock wet from the puddled rain in the streets. That caring face leaned close to his and immediately he wrapped a hand under Luke’s head, fingers sliding into his dark locks.

“Luke…” there was a brokenness in that calm voice he’d never heard before, it wavered, and nearly broke as the man’s eyes dropped to Luke’s belly and he clutched him closer, pressing him to his chest, till Luke could smell the lavender scented detergent Brother James washed all their laundry with.

The two people who had dragged him from the car, the woman referred to as Laurie and her apparent husband stood up, and backed off, but didn’t turn from the scene, watching Brother Keith cradle Luke tightly to him.

“Pater noster qui es in coelis, sanctificetur nomen tuum…”

.....

The weight was lifted off of him, his wrists were released and he could only lay there, one cheek pressed to the sheets at the sound of the man unbuttoning his shirt, pulling it off, the flutter of fabric as it landed on the floor.

“You’re a good boy, Luke, precious sweet little thing.”

A zipper was pulled down punctuating the man’s words.

And then… then… then Luke found it in him… to run, for his life. He could barely function, but forced himself to move and scrambled his way across the bed, tumbling off the edge and landing in a heap on the floor, his brown hair falling into his eyes as he crawled to stand… already, hands were snatching at his cassock, arms trying to grip at his waist, wrapping around it, trying to drag him back to the bed.

“NO!!! Let me go!!” a hand clamped around his mouth again and he was thrown down onto the mattress with force.

“STOP IT! FUCKING SHUT UP!”

Luke’s legs were kicking furiously his knee ramming up and between a pair of strong thighs, hearing the gasp as his assaulter pulled back.

“You cocksucker”

The words were quiet, strained with pain, but Luke was on his feet again, stumbling towards the door, this time… he wasn’t grabbed. He ran out into the hall, almost slipped on the rugs laid out against the wooden floors, he leaned against the stair rail as he practically fell down the stairs, fumbling, skipping two steps at a time.

His feet met the landing before he heard a shout at the top of the stairs.

“Luke!”

He broke into a run, tripped the last five steps down and landed on his hands and knees, getting up, swaying, unable to walk straight as he tried to run for the door, grabbing the keys from the old antique key hook.

“LUKE, don’t you dare! I’ll fucking kill you, you bitch!”

Too late, the glass door shut behind him, blocking out the shout, and Luke was running across the soft damp wood of the paint chipped porch and across the lawn, trying to keep his eyes focused, swerving, swaying, reaching for the old black car parked in the driveway, running into the side of the car, panting, trying to open it.


Behind him, the front door pulled open and slammed shut and there was the sound of heavy footsteps on walkway.

“Luke!”

He wrenched the door open at last and fell into the driver’s seat, jerking the door closed behind him, locking it just as the older man arrived at the window, slamming his fist against the glass, his shirt half on. Here in the light, that face looked clearer, darker…

“You collect the money at church…” Luke said to no one. “You stand on the alter… with us…”

Don Kelsing. Father Stravinskus’s old friend… and they had been sitting together in the kitchen, waiting for the roast chicken to finish in the oven, when Mr. Kelsing had offered him a drink of water from the sink, displaying a smile… like it was something to display.

The man stopped pounding on the window and his anger broke into a false smile. “Luke… Luke, buddy… I was just joking, I was just joking, kiddo. Come on out and I promise I am not mad… I’m not mad, see my face I’m not mad.”

Luke felt his head loll a little and he drove the key into the ignition, turning it, the engine kicking into life.

“LUKE! Luke, don’t you dare, I swear I’m not mad. I just want to talk. I’m sorry for scaring you.. I’m-

The wheels skidded as he put too much pressure on the gas and the car lurched forward toward the top of the driveway with a rev of the engine, his vision hazed, his panicking heart thundering in his chest, his forehead met the wheel and the car swerved a little at the top of the drive way. He heard a thunk, and he jolted his head up, but he was already out in the street, cars were squealing to a halt, dust tossed up by black rubber wheels, missing him by mere feet before he swerved through an intersection and his, foot slid off the pedal and his body gave into darkness, he fell sideways, slumped against the door.

.......

Brother Keith clutched at his hand, his words a desperate plea, hardly holding back the soft expression of shock and pain from his eyes. Luke watched Keith’s gaze lower to his abdomen again, at the glass in his side, at the dark stain spreading through the black fabric, shining in the dull light from the overcast sky.

He didn’t move for a few seconds… and then his hand slowly let Luke’s go, and slipped into the messenger bag at his waist, pulling out holy oil.

His eyelids fluttered and he lost sight of Keith for a moment, whimpering at the pain crawling up his side, before he felt a warmth on his forehead, fingers brushing his hair out of his eyes, a soft cross gently traced against his skin.

The Last Rites.

“Most merciful Jesus, lover of souls, I pray you by the agony of your most sacred heart, and by the sorrows of your Immaculate mother, to wash in your most Precious Blood the sinners of the world who are now in their agony… Heart of Jesus, once in agony, have mercy…”

And he lost consciousness, pressed there against the older man’s chest, fingers closing tightly on the other’s black cassock.

[..….]

Luke’s cheek was pressed against something warm, his body wracked with numbness, a dull sensitivity starting to creep through his extremities. He breathed in, smelled the scent of smoke. He was only half aware, turning his face a little into the warm fabric against his face, inhaling, the scent made him dizzy, it smelled like cigarettes and bonfires. He pressed his forehead to the soft warmth, clutching closer to it, fingers tightening into a fist against leather, his arm draped across a strong but soft body. He didn’t know where he was for a few moments, nor could he force his brain to remember what had happened… “ugh..”

He lifted his head dully, and white blotted out his vision, but his neck hurt so bad he didn’t dare move, looking down at his feet, his boots partially torn from skidding against concrete his legs scissored out, his upper torso had landed softly, but his lower body ached. He unclutched one hand from the white fabric and left a blood stain there, where his palms had been torn open.

A slow pain settled into his shoulder blades, it burned like he’d been dragged shirtless over gravel, but the skin itself felt unbruised. His spine tingled, and he smelled ozone and rain, and fire… Slowly, slowly, he pushed his palms against the body beneath him, and lifted himself into a sitting up position.

He’d landed on the new boy, the new blond one with the sharp striking features and the saintly-sinner attitude. His blond hair was soaked with blood, scarlet, red. His lips looked a little pale, his face, expressionless… and for a moment he wondered if the collision with the ground had killed the stranger.

Luke didn’t like him, the blond unnerved him, but admittedly he’d done nothing to Luke, so he couldn’t actually hold a few long looks against the boy. He shifted his weight, his hips aching as he crawled up towards the boy’s head, tilting that face, trying to get a better look at how much damage there was… if the new boy was dead.

From this position he could see Zaiden was starting to stir, and for a moment Luke almost thought about crawling over to see if he was okay too, but it seemed like the tall lankier boy was cognitive at least.

Blood stained Luke’s fingertips, as he felt if there was damage to the blonds’ skull, and he drew his hand back a little, nervous for a few seconds before he swallowed and did his very best to ignore his own squeamishness. It was just fluid, nothing anyone else didn’t have flowing through their veins, considering his situation…

He splayed his hand against the older boy’s chest, trying to feel if it expanded under his fingers, feeling for a heartbeat, leaning in close to his face to see if he was breathing. There was a lot of blood and it was hard to tell and Luke felt as though he owed him at least this, he had taken the hardest part of the fall for him.

I was moving slowly, like through a thick fog, but I could see everything clearly. I had no idea how I'd gotten to this place, this house. I hadn't been here in 9 years. Not since the fire.

But it was like I was still 11 years old and playing in the small garden behind out little town house. Mom was a very delicate thing, always sick. I think I made her sick permanently when I was inside her womb... and the day I lef it? I hurt her pretty badly. She had always been so frail since then. So sickly.

I had a habit of destroying things. But I didn't care... not even when it was my own mother.
The house was brick and stone, the mortar was old and not as strong as the years the building was originally built. There were vines of ivy crawling up the brick and the wood of the small porch, flowers and shrubbery made up the house, like the tattoo of a boy I once knew. It went from all the way up his creamy thighs over his hip and curled up over his ribs. So beautiful...
when I was small I always thought there was more garden and vines and life then actual house.

I saw small... because I was never a little boy. I never had a time in my life when I was a little boy. I took care of my mom when my dad walked out. I was all she had, and I didn't need her... but she sure as hell needed me. So I stayed and helped. Never having a childhood. But I didn't care. I didn't have time to play in the dirt I had more important things to do.

My father I really didn't have much to say about him... he left. Just like everyone else and I was okay with that. One less pathetic person to take care of in my opinion.

My mother was a sweet woman, very beautiful. Long auburn hair, and the bluest eyes you'd ever see. They would be as blue as mine had my father not beaten the light from them. She was gentle and would hold my hand in her cold ones... so soft and withered. She treated everyone with kindness and her passing was taken very hard by all that knew her.

Well... that is... except me.

The funeral was long, it seemed everyone had something to say. Everyone loved her, and I was just there, awkward not crying, while distant relatives came and embraced me. But I was fine with it. I was okay that she was gone. People died.

My mom called me her 'Star.' Because I supposedly shined brighter than all the stars in the midnight sky, and I was the light of her life. I was her Northern Star. And with me in my life she said she'd always find her way back home. I called her my moon... to show affection I suppose but I rarely said it, only when she was very sick.

I was brought out of my thoughts as I realized I was walking up the stairs of my old house. It was a large wrap around staircase, old wood with elephants and jungle creatures carved into it. My mom was very intelligent, she was the curator of the museum I was currently residing at. She had traveled the world and in doing so met my father. Fell in love.

What a fool.

I made my way up the stairs slowly and it was as if I could still hear my mom playing piano, a lullaby for me... it was soft and sad.

Moving closer... I felt like I had to walk down the long corridor to my mother's room. Reaching the top of the stairs I smelled it...

Ash and soot, FIRE. I smelled burning wood and flesh, I breathed in deep taking in the erotic scent. It smelled like the whole house should have been on fire... but it wasn't. At least not that I could see. There was no smoke, no fumes, nothing.

But wait... there was something... my skin was hot... warming rapidly, but my insides felt so cool. Strange.

And I was moving so slowly... down the hallway, my feet treading across the hardwood floors. Seeing the door to my mother's room opened and light flooding from it I tried to move quicker. I didn't love her... but it had been almost a decade since I'd seen her... touched her... held her hand and kept her safe. So seeing her once more... that was okay... it was okay...

I made it to the door and stopped, it was like I was frozen and I couldn't make my feet move to enter the threshold. And then her voice, like an angel's. Like a boy with blue eyes and brown hair, bangs that fell into his beautiful starry eyes.

"Star... come to me, my little star..."

I took a breath and moved... entering and seeing my mother, laying in bed. Hair sprawled out over the pillows, feathered sheets falling around her frail body...

"Mom..."

"Star... you know I always loved you..." She said with such tenderness it made me feel sick to my stomach... made me want to turn and run the other way... I walked closer and went to lay my hand on her cheek but she grabbed it... and all the love I had seen in her love was gone...

"You knew I loved you! And you killed me! You MURDERED your own MOTHER! You'll burn in hell!" She screeched her eyes going dark and her body shaking with anger. I watched as her bed was set ablaze out of nowhere. Her body was captured by flames and the room darkened, only the light from the fire lit up her body and my hand, still grasped by hers.

"I'm already in hell..."

And I yanked my arm away, and turned, running through fire. I could hear her screaming obscenities to me, but I turned it all off... turned off everything... I ran through the blaze, though not burning... my body was ice cold. Before making it to the stairs...

I ran and I ran and I ran... and I knew I wasn't running away. I was running because I wanted too. Running because I felt like it.

Not because I had too.

I finally made it down the stairs and to the last step when I realized I couldn't hear my mom anymore. And I knew... knew she was dead.

Exiting the house I breathed calmly as the fire was blocked out and the sun shone above me... my mom was dead.

But like I said... I didn't care.

....

Pain... pain, pain, pain...

I started to breathe deep feeling pain. My head hurt and my mouth hurt and my eyes hurt and my whole freaking body hurt. I thought briefly back to my mother before shaking my mind of those thoughts.

She was dead.

I felt something grabbing my jacket, the leather. There was something small on top of me. Something warm... and then I felt it...

Heat, warm, warm heat... spreading through my body. Inside, like a searing burn on my soul. Or whatever was placed there instead.

It wasn't transferring to the outside of me though... it was inside. Deep inside of me, coursing through my veins, through my mind, through my bones...

And it felt incredible.

"Ugh."

I opened my eyes slightly, looking down at the cute boy sprawled across my body. There was blood on my chest, a red hand print from where the kid must have skinned his palms. I looked over and saw everyone else was knocked unconscious... except the tall lanky kid who was staring at the dumbass that locked the damn door. The boy on top of me was looking around and I closed my eyes quickly. I didn't want him to know I was awake.

I felt the boy shift on top of me, crawling up my body... I was getting hard I knew it... he was so beautiful... so angelic. I waited, holding my breath, to see what he would do.

I felt small fingers probing at my head and a sharp pain, I almost broke my mask but I was strong. And I had endured much more pain than this... I think he was checking to see if I was okay... seeing if I was alive.

I felt a small effeminate hand pressed gently against my chest, checking to see if I was breathing. I opened my eyes when I felt him nearing my face. His head was turned and he was checking to see if there was breath coming from my mouth.

Something inside my snapped, I needed him. Wanted him more than I had ever wanted anything before. And I never wanted anything. Anything in life, but as I drew breath... as I stared at that delicate face so close to mine, I wanted. For the first time in my life...

I wanted...

I reached up a bloody and scarred, fingerless gloved hand to his cheek, resting my fingertips against it as I drew his face to mine, starring into his blue eyes, like a mirror, only with less evil.

"Oh what a wondrous world this must be... to see an angel such as thee..."

I then leaned up and my bloody, pale lips met his soft and smooth ones. I pressed deep into his mouth, holding his face with one hand, bringing the other up to cup the back of his head, threading my fingers through his perfect halo brown hair. My lips warming his as I reached my hand down to wrap gently around his waist, pulling him closer into my body... pressing him flush against me. My body heating up... in passion, what a day... what a day.

Scarlet red darkened the pavement beneath the blond boy’s head, and it smelled like iron, that distinct scent of fresh spilled blood. Luke leaned in close and tried to ignore the overwhelming urge to pull back, blood made his heart beat uncomfortably fast, made him want swoon. Too many bad experiences. His eyelids fluttered a little, listening as intently as he could. He couldn’t really hear if breath was slipping in and out of the stranger’s lungs, he couldn’t discern if air was leaving the stranger’s mouth, he adjusted his hand on the boy’s chest a little, but he was pretty sure that he could feel a heartbeat. His own hands were shaking so badly, it was hard to discern.


What had Peter called the blond in those last few seconds before the sky had fallen? Grinder? Luke couldn’t help but find that one of the most unappealing last names he’d ever heard… it turned his stomach and evoked unpleasant imagery involving butcheries and rendering plants. He took another long inhale and drew in that smoky blood smell, shivering with dislike, starting to withdraw his hand from the blonde’s chest.


Touch.

It shocked him, so his body stilled and he didn’t move… didn’t dare move, the blond boy’s gloved hand was resting delicately against his cheek and Luke wanted to pull away desperately, he drew his fingers from the other male’s chest and shifted his knees under his petite body like he wanted to move but he couldn’t seem to stand up, his stomach doing back-flips, his vision suddenly seemed hazy, dizzy, unfocused.


"Oh what a wondrous world this must be... to see an angel such as thee..."


He didn’t even have time to unravel how completely delirious those words sounded before the blond boy was leaning up, and Luke suddenly got a close view of just how cold those blue eyes were, just how angular that sharp face was, and he felt like he was on the edge of a cliff, falling forward through space, unable to help himself, to run away. Their mouths met, and Luke felt a shocking blush flood his pale cheeks in astonishment, his one hand thrown out to catch himself against the concrete, to hold himself up from falling ontop of the blond.


It tasted like smoke, like cigarettes and fire and things Luke had never tasted… he half expected to breathe in brimstone.


A hand was creeping around the back of his head, running through his dark hair, and shock was turning to panic, a fierce half-remembered panic. He stiffened as a hand wrapped around his waist and pulled him closer. Nearer. Touch. Warmth. Fear. He knew this feeling.


Butterflies exploded in his stomach and he felt like he was going to pass out… the older male seemed to deepen the intimacy, a warmth in his touches, in his kiss, and he realized that the body under him seemed to want to be closer to his… suddenly aware of the whole being, not just the wandering hands or the mouth against his own, pulling him to respond back. Luke made a sound in his throat, and he lifted his free hand, stained with blood, and he reached up and pulled the other’s hold from the back of his head, ducking out, pulling away.


It must have only been a few seconds, but it felt like an eternity of time, and the feel of the blonde’s lips still lingered against his own, the taste of that cigarette smoke and fire, and Luke covered his own mouth with a delicately structured hand and he swallowed, his blue eyes wide, shaken.

He looked around, instantly at the others, only just waking... terrified that they had seen what had happened.

I could tell he was panicking. He pulled my hand away and ducked underneath it, removing himself from my grasp. His beautiful hand went to cover that sinful mouth as he looked around in shock. I smiled.

"Relax honey, no one else saw."

I knew he was worried about appearances... even though he was as flaming as the God in my pocket. No one was fooled, not a single person. The only one that was fooled was himself. He deceived who he was meant to be, and kept his mask in place for a long time.

Then again... we all lie to ourselves.

But I never lied. It was just that no one ever asked the right questions. Dishonest... but not a lie. People see what they want to see. People hear what they want to hear.

After losing my mother, no one even questioned whether it was me that set the fire or not. I remember a fireman's large hand resting on my shoulder and cotton balls in my ears. I couldn't hear anything and the world nearly stopped moving. I looked like a sad, lost little boy to anyone's eye. But in reality?

I was in ecstasy.

I had just watched my whole world burn around me, and it was beautiful. Absolutely splendid. So when people saw grief... and pain... it was really excitement and thoughtfulness.

The world was planning my mom's funeral while I was busy planning my new blaze.

Getting ready to destroy something that was precious to someone else. And no one even asked me anything. They figured it was a stove top fire. An accident. And I guess technically it was. I meant to set the fire, I never meant to kill my mother.

I was in a lot of pain, my head ached, and I could feel how sticky and warm it was. I was bleeding, I had broken the fall for the boy, kept him almost scratch free. I nearly winced but kept it in... my body felt warm. Which was odd, because I always, always felt so damn cold. And now? Now I was heating up... almost hot. I felt like I had a fever without the pain and discomfort. Whatever this was... it felt right.

My hands were warm... fingers almost tingling... how... strange.

I reached up, and rested my hand on his cheek, next to the hand that was covering his mouth in shock and horror. I wanted to see him cry; watch him fall apart in my hands, in my arms.

Break into a thousand little pieces.

"Come with me tonight... just... come with me. Let me take you out. No one will ever have to know. I won't tell if you won't." I said smirking, not unkindly. I wanted to see if he would come with me... to see if he would let me take him away. Take him out of his comfort zone. I doubted he would.

But that didn't stop me from asking.

"Relax honey, no one else saw."


God saw.

The words did little to still Luke’s fluttering heart, it wing-beat against his ribcage demanding freedom. This boy had no business destroying his façade, it was perfect, polished, cleaned and swept like the floors of the little white chapel in the oratory. Thoughts and feelings were things he could pray away, they were things that only he and God knew. Actions weren’t. Visual and visceral and they left black smudges on everything he had upheld, they tore down everything he had worked so hard to keep at bay.

He’d been perfect for so long, unflinchingly perfect, respectful, kind, everything he had to be. He’d stood still and watched Father Stravinskus’s face when he turned over his hands in his own and the man’s gaze had raked over his twelve-year-old palm. He knew he’d done nothing wrong, not like those other boys in Sunday school. Father had ruffled Luke’s brunette hair, and told him to pray the dark notions from his mind and keep himself pure, always.

He’d struggled sometimes, later in his early teenage years, but he would never watch the boys play in the street from his window, or hold hands with their girlfriends, he didn’t tempt those feelings in, he kept those doors tightly locked.

Luke had only been tested once, once when he had closed the church by himself, extinguished the candles, and found Jeremy Turner from confirmation class with Lisa Smith intertwined in a confessional mouths locked in a greedy youthful kiss.

His blue eyes had gone wide and he’d stood there in the dark, stalk still, with the door to the confessional open, like all the air had rushed out of his lungs and all the heat had flushed into his cheeks.

“Oh my god!! Sterling, you freakin’ pervert.”

Lisa was pulling down her skirt to hide her thong, Jeremy was pushing her off him, and Luke had a hand clapped over his eyes.

“I DIDN’T SEE anything!” He said quite loudly and rammed his finger at the door. “Get out! Before I tell, Father.”

They hadn’t moved… they had realized it was only him.

“No.”

Luke had let this fingers slip from over his eyes and narrowed his attention at them.

Lisa was still in Jeremy’s lap, she was biting her lip, her heavily made-up eyes turned in his direction and Jeremy was smirking.

“You’re just jealous…” Lisa smiled meanly.

Jeremy snorted. “Yeah, he’s jealous that he isn’t you, baby.”

Luke had flushed. “That’s not true.”


“Everyone knows priests are gay, bitch-face. And you live with five of them. I bet they make you touch them every night.”

Giggles… laughter…

Pain was lancing up Luke’s shoulder blades and he found himself looking into the blonde’s face, that cruelly angular face. The boy’s hand touched his cheek and the panic flooded through his veins. The audacity. The nerve. The touch was like fire, and Luke shook there on his knees for a few moments. He wanted to run, to scramble to his feet, shove the blond away and run for Zaiden or Alice… anyone else.

"Come with me tonight... just... come with me. Let me take you out. No one will ever have to know. I won't tell if you won't."

The color drained from his face, his mouth opened in disgust and horror , his free hand shot up, and he slapped the blond boy across the face, hard.

The sound of the strike resounded around the lot, ricocheting back at them.

The fucking bitch... just slapped me. I wasn't shocked... just humored and interested. I liked pain... turned me on, got me all hard and hot... just like the kid in front of me. I smirked... I liked my toys to have fighting spirit and this one did. He was OBVIOUSLY in the closet and confused, but he was so cute when he was angry. I smiled up at him, showing all my teeth, perfect and straight, smiling like a wolf cornering his little lamb.

I reached up and grabbed his wrist hard enough to bruise... and that was my intentions.
I squeezed and brought him back down to my chest, smokey breath in the teen's face as I breathed deeply smiling, in excitement.

"If I were you... I'd be very careful. Very, very careful baby boy. You don't want to play with fire... or you're going to get burned." I smirked.

Looking into his wide eyes I kissed him quick and hard on his mouth before shoving him off of me painfully onto the hard cold ground. Sitting up I looked at the weird boy from before...

"Hey... what happened exactly?"

Alice was drifting through nothingness, hovering over dark fantasies and lucid dreams. Fantastic visions of dark, maze-like rooms spread before her wide eyes. And, quite suddenly, it all stilled.

Alice was standing in a long hallway, moonlight gleaming off of the polished wood surfaces.

“Relax honey, no one saw…”

Saw what? Alice wondered, searching for the source of the faint voice.

Alice advanced forward, knowing nothing except that she must go on. She was being pulled down the hallway, like a puppet on invisible strings.

The dim outline of a wooden door materialized before her. Alice glanced behind. Small specks of golden light darted away from her gaze. Suddenly an unseen force shoved her, startling her through the doorway and falling into a heap on the other side. Wasn’t the door closed?

Once her surprise had abated, Alice gazed around to find herself in a room of shelves. And upon those shelves, were hundreds of lovely porcelain dolls. They were just like the dolls she wasn’t allowed to touch when she went to her cousin’s house as a child. And they were all staring at her with those cold, impassive eyes.

“Come with me tonight…” a small feminine voice moaned sadly.

Whispers began to softly brush past Alice as she slowly got to her feet.

Where? Alice wanted to ask.

“Come with me…. Don’t leave me alone…” the voice half-heartedly begged, hopeless. “No one will have to know…”

The thick sensation of emotion swelled in her throat and flooded her senses. Alice felt the prickling of her eyes as tears escaped her, unbidden. The world blurred before her shining eyes. Alice continued toward the voice, slowly; cautiously.

A resounding crack exploded into existence as she noticed the whispers rising to a great crescendo; no longer soft, but urgent. Specks of light were all around her, moving in an erratic frenzy. Alice’s movements synchronized with the symphony as she walked faster and faster until, before her, laid a dark lump on the smooth hard wood floors. The symphony faded out of existence and into a bone chilling silence as Alice knelt before the form.

Dark and foreboding in the moonlight, blood pooled beneath the pitiful creature. Long, unkept hair concealed a pale face. Alice hesitantly reached out, her hand hovering over the figure’s dark locks.

A thin hand darted out, seizing Alice’s own in an unbreakable grip. Alice knelt as a statue, too stunned to pull away.

“Very, very careful…”

Large, dark eyes met hers as another hand gently caught the tears that had spilled down Alice’s cheeks. The girl racked her tear-stained hand across her face, her fingernails stained in blood. The pool of blood receded around them. Back to it’s source …as if it never had been so.

Alice gazed into those dark eyes, now glazed in some unknown ecstasy.

The girl stood. Her tall, willowy frame was exaggerated by the loose, shapeless clothing draped over her body. And she was still clasping her hand as the girl bent over her. The girl’s hair was now neat and glossy.

“You’re going to get burned, “she breathed into Alice’s ear.

Something hot and wet flowed over Alice’s free fingers. Gazing down, Alice watched blood bloom across her chest. She watched it drip down like fallen petals and pool around her.
The pressure on her hand was no longer present. Alice gazed up to see dark, solemn eyes before the girl dissipated into nothingness.

Alice gazed down in horror as the pool of blood spread before her, staining the floor…

And then she opened her eyes to the bright shock of pain.

Alice sat up quickly, shocked as reality slowly washed the images of the dream from her thoughts. Now her body demanded her attention. Alice’s head was pounding as she gazed around at the others. Some were alert and others just now rousing. Luke was awake, though especially pale and upset. His eyes were wide; vulnerable. Alice wanted to comfort him …to touch his hand.

She stirred herself, trying to rise, but a deep soreness halted her advance. She must have fallen primarily on her bottom.

“Hey, what happened exactly?” Alice heard the blond boy ask close by.

"Take it. " Gabe heard the jingling of the car keys before she saw him pull them out. She smiled as she kissed him quickly and grabbed the keys. "Hey! Don't do anything reckless okay? My dad would kill me." He looked worried as she took the keys and headed towards his car. Opening the driver door she sat down and felt her body shiver from the new car seats. "Don't worry babe I got this."

She was going to ruin everything about this car. Some how she managed to get guys to trust her. All she had to do was take her clothes off and smile. Men and teens alike. Teens were far easier then men. "I'll see you when you get back Alicia."

She winked and drove off. Fake name, fake hair, and a fake life. Gabe couldn't care less when it came to these things. She drove out of town into the back country roads until she got to a deserted sand lot.

She smiled as her heels hit the sand and sunk down a little bit. Walking to one of the trees kinda near she got the hidden gas can and started to cover the car. Once her nose was completely filled with gasoline, she threw the gas can back and lit a match.

It wasn't even about watching it burn for her.

It was about the fact that she could easily take things from others and destroy them.
She put her headphones in as she walked back to her truck and drove off leaving it to burn.

----


'I hate everything.' Was her first thought as she started to regain consciousness. Everything from the tips of her hair to the bottom of her toes tingled. Not so much in pain but in annoyance. Her jaw hurt most of all. Her head actually. All of it felt like it was on fire.

Doing a mental run over she realized she wasn't bleeding so she wasn't dead.
She heard stirring from behind her and as she started to feel rain she opened her eyes.

"What the hell?" Was the only words her mouth agreed to say.

“What the hell?”

Zaiden looked over to Gabe, who seemed to just be waking up. Everyone was coming to now, and the pain in his head seemed to be getting worse by the second, while the pain in his back, though no longer equivalent to his head, seemed to be getting slightly worse as well. He had never felt such an odd... feeling.

Peter was still spasming a bit, though it seemed like he was trying to get it under control. Zaiden grabbed his head as he watched the parole officer. And then something happened. Something that proved the storm must have messed with his brain. Zaiden spoke. We’re he answering a question someone had asked, this wouldn’t be so rare, but he wasn’t. He was asking it.

“Are you alright?” he asked, probably bringing anyone’s attention to him who hadn’t noticed his strange behavior before.

Zaiden would admit, he didn’t know the affects of being struck by lighting. He had never known anyone who had been, or even seen it happen in real life. The only thing he knew was that it killed people from time to time, but he was pretty sure that whatever was happening to Peter was not a normal reaction.

Peter looked back it him, attempting to force his jaw closed and finally succeeding after a few seconds.

“Yeah... I’m fine,” he answered unconvincingly.

Peter began to pick himself up and Zaiden followed instinctively. He looked across over all of the young offenders, grabbing his neck for a second to keep his head from twitching to the side.

“I think... we’re going to call it a day. Go home and get some rest. I’ll be expecting you all back here at regular time tomorrow.” He turned his attention to the new guy. “All of you,” he stressed.

Zaiden looked around at the group, his vision starting to spin when he turned his head. He caught the sight of blood before he was forced to close his eyes again. So at least one person had actually gotten legitimately hurt. Zaiden found it strange that Peter hadn’t said anything about medical attention, or banding the person up, or anything. Perhaps he was too distracted by his own pain, like Zaiden.

Zaiden pressed both hands to his temples and moved them in circular patterns, attempting to massage the pain away. It wasn’t really helping. Perhaps Peter had the right idea. Maybe a good, long night’s rest would make him feel better.

He just hoped he wouldn’t feel worse when he woke up.

Luke came to the conclusion that the blond boy was insane, completely certifiably insane. The notion curled in the pit of his stomach, twisting, there like an iron snake… there was no empathy in that face, just greed and want, it was like a demon had crept through those ice blue eyes and eaten away at everything else inside, carving out anything normal and good, and leaving erratic compulsion.

He went to wrench his wrist away from Grinder the moment he was grabbed, the hold was so tight his fingers curled and blood rushed to his fingertips in a tingling pain. He winced. He was pulled back towards the stranger, face to face, and his nose crinkled at that that chain smoker breath fluttering against his mouth, it made his eyes water.

"If I were you... I'd be very careful. Very, very careful baby boy. You don't want to play with fire... or you're going to get burned."

A smirk cut across that face like a knife and in the next moment Luke was subjected to another rough kiss, but no sooner did Grinder’s lips meet his own when he rough hands pressed against his chest and he was shoved backwards onto the hard cement. He landed on his rear, and the shock of pain ran through his body again and settled in his shoulderblades.

He didn’t even hesitate, he rolled over, leveraging himself on the ground and scrambling up quickly, brushing his burning hands across his orange jumpsuit. He put a wide birth between himself, and that Grinder boy.

Luke felt shaky.

His head hurt, he was numb, pain was shooting down his spine, his back felt like it was splitting open, like he’d been dragged shirtless over gravel… and he’d been assaulted for no reason, when he was just trying to help.

He swallowed, breathed in, swallowed again, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth as if he could wipe away the taste of cigarettes. Luke’s blue gaze shakily fell over the others waking up, one by one, Zaiden, Gabe, Alice and he forced his feet forward, his back to the blond boy, stepping around Alice’s feet and crouching down by her side. She was sitting up looking startled.

“Hey…” he said quietly, to get her attention. He cast a look at Grinder, and focused on the girls face, it had a calming effect on him, he took a deep breath, lifting a delicate hand to the back of the girl’s head, cupping it, eyeing her expression.

“Are you injured at all?” he asked gently, his fingers probing carefully for any blood or bruises that would indicate she’d hit her head hard. Though, looking around it seemed that the blond boy was the only one who had received any substantial injuries, probably due to Luke landing on top of him. Zaiden seemed completely disoriented though… but… he’d seemed disoriented before they had been struck.

“What the hell?”

Gabe’s voice broke the silence and He turned to take in the other girl’s response. She looked alright.

He stiffened a little as another shock ran up his back, and he closed his eyes and breathed out… waiting for the pain to stop.

“Can you stand?” He turned back to Alice, gently, wrapping her arm around his neck, offering to hoist her up, lifting her slowly, supporting her by the waist. ‘Let me know if this hurts…” He said under his breath, staggering just slightly under her weight, he wasn’t entirely balanced yet himself, and he was actually slightly smaller than her.

He held her arm at his shoulder, curling it around his neck. He shifted a little, and looked down at Gabe. “Do you need help?” He let go of Alice’s arm around him and offered his free hand down to Gabe. His blue gaze traveled around the rest of them.

He hadn’t realized that Peter was twitching all over the ground, and Zaiden was asking him if he was okay. Luke’s heart dropped to his stomach a little as the spasms continued to wrack Peter’s body… and it was only after a few tense moments when he was able to answer Zaiden’s question.

“Yeah… I’m fine.”

He didn’t look it. Zaiden was standing, so was Peter… but Luke half expected either of them to fall down again. He shifted… but he was holding up Alice and didn’t want to let go just yet.

“I think... we’re going to call it a day. Go home and get some rest. I’ll be expecting you all back here at regular time tomorrow.” Peter’s attention fell on Grinder. “All of you,”

Luke couldn’t help but look back into the blond boy’s face, the last place he wanted to look, the boy was still bleeding, and at the back of his mind Luke fought with himself… he needed medical attention, he probably had a concussion, but he wasn’t about to close the distance between them, he was going to keep his distance from now on… because, instinctively, he knew something was wrong with that kid… and he didn’t want to put himself in a dangerous situation with him. He’d had that same feeling before… once, a month ago, sitting in a kitchen with a glass of water and a man with an uncanny smile.

Luke spoke up first. “What about the people who are hurt?” his voice sounded rather shrill… revealing how shaken he really was. “Shouldn’t we call an ambulance, or take them to the hospital, or something?” He asked, stiffening with pain again as it shot through his spine… he tried to bite it back.

The girl had woken up... the loud one, as well as the smaller girl. Everyone was awake now... and my palms were still warm but I felt so cold... like I normally did.

But even though my hands were warm... I felt good. Like really, really good. I felt like... there was surging power... like being high or flying. I was a strong man... but feeling like this, whatever it was, made me feel even stronger.

I smirked, I knew where I was going tonight.

"Hey..." my thoughts were interrupted by the small boy talking to the girl... the meek, quiet one. I watched as he cupped the back of the girl's head... moving in close to check her for injuries.

"Are you injured at all?" he asked. Something red-hot flaired within me... something, bitter on my tongue, like worms crawling through a dead man's eye socket.

"What the hell?" The promiscuse girl said, she seemed fine, alive, sadly.

"Can you stand?" The boy asked the girl, he moved to wrap her arm around his neck. His small hands moving to run along her waist, gripping it tightly, lifting her to her feet.

Bitch looked fucking fine to me.

RED. I'M SEEING RED. MOTHERFUCKING RED.

"Let me know if this hurts... "

I'll fucking make it hurt... this wasn't right, my chest was hard and splitting, my blood boiling. And my hands were clenched into fists... and they were on fire.

He curled her arm around his neck, moving to where the other girl sat, offering his hand to her. What is it with this kid and touching fucking females?

"Do you need help?"

I turned in the direction of the large man twitching on the ground. It was pathetic, and he seemed to be spasming quite violently. And every once in a while the kid I had kissed would shudder... he would shudder so hard it was visible. I didn't care though... that hand on her waist... that fucking hand on her waist. If it got any worse... something would be done about it. I would deal with it.

He shuddered painfully again... wincing.

‎It wasn't that I cared, what happened to him I mean... It was just that he was someone I was going to use up until there was nothing left. Like a match burning brightly until it singed my fingertips... turning to ash, then dust, and then nothing. Yeah... he would be nothing.

He was mine to use, and no one else's. After all... I never did play well with others.

"I think... we're going to call it a day. Go home and get some rest. I'll be expecting you all back here at regular time tomorrow." The man was standing... I must had missed it looking at the boy making faces, the boy in pain.

"All of you," he said... looking at me this time. I looked back... levelling my stare at him, knowing it was dark. Full of authority, and my own determined mind set. I ran my gloved fingers through my blonde hair, slicking it back and pulling Fire out of my pants pocket.

I had to be sure He was okay... I hadn't checked when I had been thrown through the air and awakened. Because... I awoke to the most beautiful sight... lost in an angel's light. Fire would forgive me... or not. But to be honest it didn't even matter.

"What about the people who are hurt? Shouldn't we call an ambulance or take the, to the hospital, or something?"

And then he was looking at me, such pretty blue eyes... he looked into me. Sensing danger. Smart kid. But I was smarter. And this was my world. My game. He would not win. He probably wouldn't even survive. I would burn him up, watching him die... slowly, the light leaving his incredible eyes... fading with his soul, deathly cold, yet surrounded by the flame of eternal hell. Fire bless him... for he wouldn't last the year. He wouldn't last me.

“Hey...”

Alice turned her wide eyes upon Luke. He still seemed shaky; as if a rogue breeze would scatter his image.... like mist. He watched her expression carefully as he cupped his hand around the back of her head, gently searching for injuries.

“Are you injured at all?” Luke asked.

Alice only barely winced when he found a tender area, bringing up her hand to touch it as well with an incredulous look upon her face. She was jarred by her impact, but finding individual injuries was always surprising. As if everything was a dream and she was amazed to feel any evidence of the experience.

Alice pushed past her strange surprise and shook her head. She watched Luke as he scanned the others, concern pulling at his brow. His kind spirit was already endeared to her and for the first time she wondered. Why was he here?

“What the hell?” came the lioness girl's exclamation but Alice wasn't paying attention.

Alice saw a bruise beginning to form on his wrist, a darkened ugly thing marring his smooth skin. It was like the sky before the storm, a force bent on destruction.

Luke suddenly stiffened and Alice gently but urgently touched his hand, silently asking him. Her eyes were searching, trying to find the answer. His eyes were closed as he exhaled quietly. And then whatever fit that had possessed the boy passed. He seemed to have not noticed her questioning gaze.

“Can you stand?” Luke asked as he turned his attention back to Alice. He hadn't waited for an answer before wrapping her arm around his neck and helping lift her up slowly; struggling a little under her weight. “Let me know if this hurts...” he grunted, straining. Alice quickly tried to balance her weight to lessen Luke's burden as stars danced before her eyes.

Sound drowned in flickering consciousness. Luke offered an arm to the lioness girl. And then the stars cleared enough for Alice to make out the ebony parole officer twitching violently on the ground. Her eyes widened under his agony.

“Yeah... I'm fine,” the man growled between his teeth. Eventually he stood shakily and Alice noticed Zaiden, also standing. She held her breath unconsciously at their unsteady appearance, frowning.

“I think... we’re going to call it a day. Go home and get some rest. I’ll be expecting you all back here at regular time tomorrow. All of you,” the man announced. Alice exhaled in some relief, his voice sounded full and tangible.

Luke became very still. Alice gazed into his open face, conflict raging in his eyes. “What about the people who are hurt?” Luke piped up. “Shouldn’t we call an ambulance, or take them to the hospital, or something?” his last word was strained as Alice watched his face contort in pain, shuddering. Luke needed help too.

Alice gently tried to push herself away from Luke, still a little unsteady, but getting stronger. What was he doing trying to help everyone when he seemed so pained? Alice stared into his eyes, a steely resolve evident as she guided his limbs so that he was now sitting on the ground. Alice wasn't going to see him hurt himself.

It’s not that the Luke didn’t notice Alice’s gentle touches and quiet and concerned observation of him, but his distracted mind couldn’t concentrate, the pain, the others in pain, and the taste of cigarettes on his tongue. He couldn’t focus. It was like his shoulder blades were splitting open, and his back was rending in two, and his face burned under the unflinching stare of the blond boy’s cruel blue eyes. His vision was becoming a tunnel of dizzy disbelief, he felt like he were going to faint.

Alice was trying to pull away from him, she was still unsteady, and at first he didn’t want to let go of her, and then his hands slipped away from her waist and let go of her hand and he was looking into a pair of green eyes, startling clear with a resolve that was more steady than his own. He let himself be guided, his legs folding till he was now sitting on the ground, his palms pressed to the hail shattered ice that strewn the pavement, looking up at Peter.

The man, didn’t say anything.

He was supposed to take care of them, wasn’t he? Wasn’t that the point of coaching young offenders? Luke’s eyes narrowed intently as he watched the dark-skinned man turn, like he had misplaced something, and resume opening the door… he’d apparently found the key. There was a tremor in that toned large body and Peter’s neck turned to the side and his jaw clicked oddly… then the doors were open and he was walking through.

Luke scanned the group again, and his trembling gaze fell back on the blond boy, an unnerving mistrust bubbled at the pit of his stomach, he forced his mouth to open.

“You should get yourself to a hospital… you probably have a concussion.”

Even if the other boy was a miscreant, an unapologetic homosexual, or an atheist… he was still human.

“I’m sure Peter could arrange a ride for you.” Luke didn’t smile, and his eyes weren’t any less accusing, his face wasn’t any kinder, but no one else seemed to like the blond, and he should at least get his injury checked on.

Luke took a deep breath and picked himself up off the ground, his blue gaze turning up to look Alice in the face. The quiet, mousy haired girl, she didn’t appear that hurt at least. She had that same silent strength about her. He cast Grinder another look and his hand found Alice’s and he set his jaw, his big blue eyes expressing his pain and nervousness a little more than he would have liked as he stepped in the direction of the back door, tugging Alice with him, he passed Gabe and Zaiden.

“We should probably get our things from the lockers.” He said under his breath, giving Zaiden a curious look as they passed. The older, taller boy looked a little bemused. Luke slowed down a little.

“Zaiden, come on… you need help too.” He encouraged, walking with purpose, his hand clutching tightly to the slender girl’s by his side, starting to retrace their steps back down the corridor, under the blanched lighting, in the direction of the locker rooms.

It was only when they were out of sight of the others that he slowed a little, cast a look back over his shoulder, and a shaking palm pressed his forehead, pushing his soft brown hair from his vision, which lingered uncertainly on the ground as they walked. He inhaled deeply, then exhaled, trying to calm himself down.

Peter’s footsteps still echoed around the hallway, he was somewhere, some ways ahead of them.

Luke stopped at the locker room and finally let go of Alice’s hand.

“Do you have someway to contact your parents? To let them know what happened?” he asked the girl, his own movements slow as found his locker and he turned the dial lock, unlatching it and pulling it open. His hands were only shaking worse… and he turned to look at the locker room door again as though half expecting Grinder to come walking in.

No. He was over-thinking this, his body was trembling because he’d been struck by lightening… that’s all. That’s all.

Cigarettes and smoke.

It’s like the orange jumper almost smelled like them. He unzipped the top of his jumper and slid his arms out so it hung loosely around his waist, smoothing down the long-sleeved black clerical shirt. He needed to call the Oratory, he could probably use the black, slim, phone on the wall outside the locker rooms, by the drinking fountain.

He looked over his shoulder at Alice as he pulled out his pants and belt and leather shined shoes from his locker and set them on the bench there. Then he voiced what he knew most of them would have, if they’d been given the chance.

“I’m worried about Peter. It’s a miracle we survived, and we’re alright… but he isn’t… isn’t alright I mean…” at his own word’s Luke’s gaze wandered to the door again.

Alice was standing protectively beside Luke, studying his expressions carefully. She followed Luke's gaze to see Peter find the key and begin unlocking the door. Peter's muscular frame shuddered half-way through, turning his neck strangely, but then the doors were open. Alice was distracted from the parole officer's retreating form as Luke's anxious voice again cut through the atmosphere.

“You should get yourself to a hospital... you probably have a concussion,” he told the blond boy, “I'm sure Peter could arrange a ride for you.”

Luke began to shift his weight, slowly getting up from the icy pavement. Alice bent down a little, watching him carefully until he was standing, his frame steadier. His brilliantly blue eyes scanned her face, even as his pale complexion gave rise to a small, nagging worry in her.

Luke's gaze again turned to the other boy, the blond one, and then he had her hand and Alice was being pulled along to follow Peter inside. Luke mumbled something about lockers to Zaiden as they passed. Alice looked back to see a peculiar expression in Zaiden's eyes as Luke added with more authority, “Zaiden, come on... you need help too.”

Alice let Luke tug her down the hallways, now strangely aware of how ordinary; how blank these corridors were. It was so... white. The florescent lighting made it an alien environment from the chaotic situation they had just left. ...As if it had never happened; as if they had entered another world. Distant footsteps only magnified the eerie feeling, as they lightly echoed around the concrete surroundings.

Luke had slowed to a stop at the locker room and Alice was released. The absence of the warmth of his palm against hers bemused her.

“Do you have someway to contact your parents? To let them know what happened?” Alice didn't. She had left her cell phone at home, as usual. But it didn't matter. She wasn't really hurt... Besides, Luke was trembling as he fiddled with the lock and opened the locker. Never having seen someone so unnerved, she didn't bother trying to answer him as he suddenly glanced nervously to the door.

Luke visibly shook himself as if he had had a silly thought and unzipped the jumper so that it hung at his waist, revealing a clerical shirt. He pulled out his other clothes and set them on the bench.

“I'm worried about Peter,” Alice looked into Luke's open face. “It's a miracle we survived, and we're alright... but he isn't... isn't alright I mean...” He glanced at the door unconsciously, still shaking.

Alice could no longer bear Luke's tangible fear and pain. She closed the distance between them and embraced him, seeking to quell his inflamed nerves. He smelled clean and fragrant. Roses and candles... perhaps even some sort of incense wafted off of his black shirt. They stood there, he seemed stiff and awkward at the sudden contact, but she did not let go until his shaking had seemed to abate.

Finally, she gently released him from the embrace, smiling apologetically. She grabbed her notepad, hanging at her waist, and unclipped her pen from her pocket.

It's okay, she wrote, Peter can take care of himself. Go home and rest.

Alice pulled the notepad off her neck and placed it on the bench for him to see as she left to change.

“Zaiden, come on… you need help too.”

The sound of his voice pulled him out of his daze. Zaiden looked around to find the source of the voice and spotted Luke just as he and Alice headed inside the building. He really had been out of it. He had completely missed Peter unlocking the door and leaving, and now he was gone and the others were going too. He wondered briefly what effects getting struck by lightning had on a person mentally, then turned and headed into the building.

The jumpsuit was itchy and stiff. He already didn't feel well, and getting back into his normal, comfortable clothes would probably help to battle that feeling. As he walked into the locker room Alice rested her notepad on one of the benches and walked off to go change. Zaiden focused on the pad for a second, looking away before he'd had long enough to read what it said.

Slowly, he ambled over to the locker in which he had stored his pants, shooting Luke a small smile as he passed. It was then that he noticed the color underneath Luke's now unzipped jumpsuit, and the boy's physical and verbal behavior all seemed to make sense. He was a priest. Or, well, something similar, anyways. Could a person even be a priest at his age? Zaiden wasn't sure. He didn't delve to deep into religion, much less the catholic faith. His mom was a semi-closeted christian, and his father was an Atheist.

Zaiden pulled the locker open, making a mental note to get a lock for it, and grabbed his jeans. His hand felt rough as he grabbed the fabric, and he realized then that his hands must have gotten scraped up more than he realized. He pulled the pants from the locker and shut it behind him, then headed to the showers where he had first changed into his jumper. He made his way around the corner and stuck to the wall, aware that Alice was changing further inside, and not wanting to invade her space or vise versa.

Zaiden finished changing and headed back to the locker room. He wasn't sure where supposed to put their jumpers, but he figured he couldn't go wrong just leaving it in his locker. So that's what he did. His head was still pounding, though it had gotten a bit better, and his back knew a soreness it had never known before. He closed the locker back and headed for the door. A nap would be great right now.

“You should get yourself to a hospital… you probably have a concussion. I’m sure Peter could arrange a ride for you.”

I looked at the boy. He looked miserable, absolutely miserable... I wanted to know his name. I was going to find out his name tonight, I didn't want to keep calling him 'boy,' or 'kid,' or 'sexy.' In my head at least.

And speaking of heads.

Mine throbbed as I turned to look at the boy. He was shaking, and looked so frail a feather could have knock him over. I stared him down, my eyes going cold and uncaring, like he was an insect I could and would squash in a fucking second, and by the look on that kid's face... he damn well knew it too.

I watched as he grabbed the small quiet girl's hand and tugged her away spastically into the building and out of sight. The community service man just walked off as the tall, obscenely lanky, boy followed the other two inside. My head hurt pretty bad and I reached back with my fingerless-gloved hands and felt around before looking at my fingers. They were drenched in blood.

Well you know what the say about head wounds... they bleed. A lot.

I wanted to get it cleaned up right away, so I didn't get blood in my bike helmet, so I jogged ahead, passing the thin boy completely before stopping at the locker room doors, I could see inside... and... I didn't like what I saw.

She was... hugging him. She was fucking HUGGING him. What kind of bullfuck alternate fairytale land had I landed my ass into. What was going on with the world? I was angry again, but it was worse this time. My palms were so hot the skin felt as if it should be splitting violently... but it wasn't. It was still smooth, well as smooth as work labored hands could be.

This kid was letting this unintelligent, ugly girl feel up all over him, and I am fucking gorgeous, and he wouldn't take the bait... not even a nibble.

It felt like Fire was spreading up my spine and whipping around my blood-soaked hair, it burned me, yet I was unharmed...

What the hell is going on?

It didn't matter... what mattered was the intimacy between the two before my eyes. Did they know each other outside of community service? Were they friends? Lovers perhaps?

Over my dead body.

The girl was trouble, I knew. The boy would be punished for his impudence first, I would make him hurt so bad tonight. But the girl... she would suffer and brutally. I will make her blood rain down upon her body... I swear Fire... I swear.

Composing myself I walked into the room, just as they pulled apart and she had written something on some paper, like a note pad... Hmmm... maybe she couldn't speak.

Didn't matter, she would pay.

They were apart and I walked by... the boy and the girl hadn't seen me yet, so I glared, glared with all the madness I had deep within my soul. And then something strange happened, my chest ached... my heart.

It was like needles, painful, indescribable needles... dipping into the soft veined flesh and then ripping out, slowly, over and over and over and over and over and over again.

Disconcerting.

I walked to the sink by the toilets, past the lockers, my heart creaking with the intense heat inside of my body, I wanted to turn the water cold, as cold as it would go. But it was like my hand moved of its own accord to the hot, and turned it the whole way... and... it felt good against my hands. Like the scorching heat was the right temperature.

I moved down and took my gloves off, shoving them into my pocket before moving back to the sink. I reached forward and cupped some water in my palms before splashing it in my face, almost as if trying to kick myself of these odd feelings, like trying to wash them away into oblivion.

I pulled my black long sleeve shirt off, from over my head, tossing it onto the sink beside me, my muscles rippled like a wave beneath my skin as I flexed and stretched. I was all out of sorts from the fall, and my head was busted open because of how hard the other teen had landed on me.

My tattoos could easily be seen. An anchor was drawn onto my left ribs, huge and black, old and rusted looking. Tangling with the anchor was an old pocket watch with metal wings attached. I was big into machinery as a child, and I figured the mechanical watch and wings mixing with the anchor was perfect for me. Especially when I was a teenager. It had felt like I had all the time in the world, no matter how old I got and the wings were a symbol of where I would go someday and the anchor to remind me who I was, and why I set fire to the world.

I had a large, upside down Victorian cross on my back, for irony purposes mostly, and for beauty. I loved beautiful things... like the small kid on the other side of the mirror.

My entire chest was ablaze with Fire... it’s where I got the nickname Blaze, a friend saw the tat right after I'd gotten it done. It's beautiful, and done in black and white, realistic. Like you could reach out and feel the burn. On my wrists I had shackles and more black and white flames going up the inside of my wrists.

I had other tattoos... but the only other one, that was visible with my shirt off, was Beatrice, written in a very beautiful old script... right across my heart, within the flames. But it could still be easily read, even as the Fire engulfed it.

Beatrice.

I shook myself of those thoughts before dunking my head down, and under the stream of firery water. Soaking through my blonde hair, the strands hanging in my face. I reached up and roughly began to rub the wound, digging the caked-on blood out of it.

I did that for about four minutes, trying not to think of the past. Afterall... it did well not to dwell on demons.

On monsters.

"Shit," I grunted as a stab of pain shot through my injured head, but I just dug into my scalp harder, pissed I couldn't burn myself with the water, for some weird ass reason that was unknown to me. Straightening up, I flung my hair back, running a hand through it to keep it out of my eyes, but a few strands fell anyways.

Staring down, I saw my blood swirl down the drain, like all the pain... all the hurt. But not the anger... the anger never left.

I looked up, at myself. My well muscled and lithe form, tattooed, and wet, dripping hair, bangs in my eyes, and I wondered.

I just wondered.

My grip tightened hard on the porcelain of the sink before shoving off roughly and walking around the corner, leaning lazily up against the small boy's locker. It was open and he was on the other side, so he couldn't see me. I reached a hand out and slammed the locker shut, just barely missing his pretty little face. I looked at him in interest, one eye brow raised and a clear as day smirk on my angular face.

"Hello beautiful."

Gabe opened her eyes again and realized that she was the only one still on the ground. Looking to the side she could see them walking away but made no extra effort to hurry herself up.

"Fuckin' shit. Fuckin bullshit all of this is. Damn pain in the ass and this fuckin headache." Her words were a mumbled mess as she sat up and put pressure on her temples. She could feel the hard dull pain in her side where the lighting had struck her but once she realized she wasn't bleeding her profanities continued.

Slowly standing she started her own way towards the locker room with the rest of them. She didn't pay much attention to anything on her way but as she reached the locker room blondie was in the corner radiating with frustration and everyone else was huddled against their lockers and talking.

"This is all fuckin bullshit. I didn't want to be in this damn place anyway now we fuckin get struck by lighting? I call bullshit."

She knew that her sentences weren't making much sense but as she unzipped her uniform and slowly worked her way back into her clothes she kept her sneakers on and held her heels.

"Bye." She was short with her leaving and didn't even bother to look up before she realized that she had walked head first into Zaiden.

"Aye. Seriously? You just blend into things man. You've got to watch out for that trait before someone takes advantage of it. "

Luke’s wide open face revealed his uncertainty, the crease in his forehead expressed his worry and concern which was slowly expanding at an inexhaustible rate. They had been struck by lightning, Peter was acting strangely, some of them were injured, and the blond boy had startled him, scared him. He actually felt physically ill thinking about it, his stomach seemed to encage a million moths and butterflies that refused to escape.

How could he turn off today and go home as though nothing had happened? Not to mention the searing pain in his back was starting to give him a throbbing headache, his shoulder blades felt raw and bleeding even though he had landed on Grinder.

He swallowed hard and turned to unzip his jumper further but before he had the chance to, he caught a flash of soft green eyes as he was drawn into an embrace with the quiet girl next to him, whose arms wrapped around his small frame and held him tight, a silent sort of consolation that words would never compare to. At first his hands remained quite still by his side, before they raised a little and he pressed them to Alice’s back, she was a little taller than him, his chin fit into the crook of her neck.

She didn’t let go for a while, and he was just starting to feel slightly self-aware, even if it stilled his roaring nerves. She finally released him, and offered him a fleetingly fragile smile, taking her little notepad from the string around her waist and jotting down her response

‘Its okay, Peter can take care of himself. Go home and rest.’

He would have never thought to argue with that statement, he didn’t, and the girl gathered up her stuff and turned into the dressing room stalls to change.

That’s when his blue gaze was drawn to movement by the door, and he caught a glare that made his heart flutter against the inside of his ribs and pound against his sternum so loud he thought for sure that the whole room could hear it. His face paled considerably and a hand raised nervously to push a strand of chocolate brown hair from his eyes as he turned quickly towards his locker, taking a deep breath… his whole body tingled with painful consciousness…

Luke didn’t look behind him, but slowed his movements, listening intently as the older boy rounded the corner to the changing rooms and sinks, and he heard the sound of running water. He took a deep breath and took his folded black pants, slipping behind a concrete divider as he took off his boots and orange suite, changing into his pants, slipping his belt through the loops, tightening it slowly. He smoothed down his dark clothing, and moved back to his locker, slipping on his work boots rather than the shoes he came in, he wasn’t sure if he had to walk and he would probably just pick up his other shoes when he came in tomorrow morning.

He folded his suite neatly, and in a slightly OCD manner, placing it inside his lockers ontop of his shoes, before tugging the small wooden cross around his neck out from under his shirt. He settled it delicately against his chest, visible now, how it was supposed to be.

His locker door was suddenly slammed shut and it missed his face by centimeters, mere centimeters.

“Hello beautiful.”

That voice made him feel faint and he shakily turned to look up at the much taller, bigger boy, all blond wet hair, and a smirk that cut like a knife, leaned there against the lockers looking at him with wolfish eyes, empty with the kind of hunger that couldn’t be sated.

Luke did a double take, his gaze dropped for a fraction of a second from the boy’s face to his slender, toned body, drawn to the black ink of the tattoos on his ribs, and wrists, and arms… and… it was like a perverted kind of artwork, and right at the center was “Beatrice” wreathed in flames across Grinder’s heart.

He looked like a model, the kind that was only real in magazines and photoshop. He could have been on the cover of RollingStone, some musician or singer who had a better body than voice, and a colder heart than smile.

For the briefest of moments Luke wondered what it would feel like, to touch that black ink carved into that pale skin, but the thought was purged as instantly as it came to him.

He felt the rush of color to his face and looked away at his locker quickly. He had to fill the silence, he had to say something, anything. He wasn’t beautiful, he was little, small, girly… and something else too, something he didn’t want to say but he felt weigh in on him, and in that moment he was surprised his knees didn’t buckle and he didn’t fall to the floor with his faith. He started to untangle God from the bleeding wreckage of his mind and finally words started coming out.

Pay Phone.

He needed money for the black pay phone in the hall, he needed to call for a ride.

“Do… do… you have seventy five cents?” that was reasonable, genderless, sexless, neutral, nothing could possibly be pulled from that or twisted, or perverted.

Luke finally looked back at Grinder and his gaze stayed steady, his lips pressed together in a thin line, his hands at one sleeve, fixing it to cover up his discomfort

I watched him look like he wanted to bolt. He looked scared and out of his comfort zone. And Fire was he beautiful, so beautiful. I knew that from the first moment I looked at him. And he was good too, I could tell. Hell I could practically smell it on him. It was intoxicating and at the same time made me sick. My gut churned with disgust and some kind of perverse, twisted pleasure. I looked at him again, watching him, he looked uncomfortable.

Good... you should be.

I saw him give me a quick once over. I knew he didn't want me to see that, but I did. Oh I saw a lot more than he would ever know. My blue eyes narrowed a little, eyeing him up hungriliy. There was just something so... innocent... about him. Made me want to devour him, eat him up... until there was nothing left.

Made me want to hurt him...

My eyes widened, an eye brow cocking as I saw him blush brightly before turning away into his locker, staring at nothing, but looking like he saw everything, everything in the whole damn universe. He liked what he saw, thought I was sexy, I could tell, and not by the way he looked, but simply by the way that he looked away.

And I would use this to my advantage... when life give you lemons... pour them into open wounds.

Cause pain.

The fire within me burned and smoldered, setting blaze to everything within me. And my Fire was watching me, sending the flames up my spine, straight to my brain, only to move down and wrap around my neck, down, down, down my torso igniting pleasure in my groin.

Fire he was going to be the death of me.

He was small, very small for his age. He almost looked too young to be here, in a room full of supposed 'delinquents.' And his eyes were so blue, so bright, and wide and embarrassed currently. The best emotion I had seen so far though, was fear. Fear of me. And he should be... afraid that is... of me.

If only you knew.

"Do... do... you have seventy five cents?" He looked calm, on the outside but I knew he wasn't. I knew that with me around he would never be calm, I had already broken that, pressing my hot lips to his slightly warm ones, forcibly taking, what was probably, the boy's first kiss. It made me smirk slightly, thinking of his virgin lips... his virgin everything.

I looked at him cooley, moving my strong rough fingers up to run through my still damn hair, slicking back the smooth blonde locks. My eyes never leaving his. Icey glaciers meeting the warm salty ocean.

Fire...

"Yeah, I do... but if you want it, you have to do something for me. Gotta give if you wanna get, cutie." I said smiling teasingly, knowing it would make him uncomfortable. More so than he already looked to be. I wanted to make him scared of me, so scared. It was fun to frighten my prey, especially the small cute and pretty ones.

I waited a moment before saying what I wanted. After all it was no fun if he wasn't nervous, wondering, waiting, scared.

I liked to play with my food before I ate it.

"Your name, tell me your name baby." I leaned in, my breath ghosting across his the skin of his ear, my eyes looking right past him, staring at the row of lockers, and feeling nothing but the warmth emacipating off of his small, slender body. My cheek so close, it was just gently brushing his.

The older boy, wasn’t scary, he wasn’t THAT scary. Or at least that was what Luke kept trying to tell himself. Grinder was tall, blond, strongly built, modelesque, slender, athletic, seductive… if Lucipher decided to slither and climb his way out of the pits of Hell and shroud himself in a human façade, he would probably look something like this blond boy, leaned there on the locker in front of Luke.

Temptation always seemed to take the guise of apparent perfection. Here was this attractive, older, stronger, beautiful stranger, and he’d picked a church child out of a crowd… like he’d known his weakness, known his sin, and pulled Luke into his lap and offered him all the sin he could ever want.

He could still feel those warm lips on his own.

This had to be his test. Brother Keith always told him that one day he would meet it, and he would know the day he did.

Luke winced a little at another shot of pain that crawled up his shoulder blades settling into his spine… for half a moment he was almost sure that he felt a shift in his very core, in his small slim frame. He wavered a little and his hand shot out to press a palm to the locker. He swallowed hard, Grinder’s gaze never left him… uncomfortable self disgust pitted in his stomach and he broke eye contact.

Luke waited for an answer from the other boy, that he wasn’t even sure he wanted. He had asked… but he wished he hadn’t. A bad decision made in the heat of a moment he wished he could change. He would have rather asked Zaiden, or Alice, or even Gabe…

Grinder smirked. That same, edged, expression that turned his face into a cruel and beautiful display self-satisfaction, Luke felt that familiar faintness threaten to buckle his knees. The other boy seemed unfazed, he slicked back his blond hair, and Luke met those cool eyes and his belly flipped again.

"Yeah, I do... but if you want it, you have to do something for me. Gotta give if you wanna get, cutie."

Those words brought the blush back to Luke’s pale cheeks and a churning feeling infiltrated his body, his center, his mind. He felt like he was going to pass out. His calm exterior shattered as easily as that, and suddenly… the other boy was closing the distance between them, leaning in till his smoky breath brushed Luke’s ear, emanated the essence of heat. His cheeks burned with mortification, his blue eyes terrified and large, he actually lifted his hands to his chest, and his hands curled into fists, pressed up against him, and he shrank towards the lockers.

"Your name, tell me your name, baby."

“P-please don’t call me that.” he tried to say, but it came out so faintly, his voice wavered, faltered, and he trailed off into silence. Luke swallowed, tried to find oxygen but it seemed to be drawn out of the air. His face turned towards the blonde’s, and he smelled cigarette’s again and the scent of fire that clung to Grinder’s clothes. It was everywhere. “Luke… my name… is Luke.”

His attention skipped around the room towards the others, seeing Gabe and Zaiden leaving.

He curled his fists into his chest, trying to hide from me... make himself small... but he was already so small, so tiny... how would I ever fit?

I would make myself.

He was pulling himself tight away from me... but he would never be able to hide... never be able to run from me. I would catch him and he would be mine.

I watched him blush, cheeks light up with a redness that would put a virgin to shame... then again it was easy to tell that the little bitch before me was nothing but a virgin, with an iron-clad chastity belt locked around his cute little ass... his cute little entrance.

I would penetrate it...

“P-please don’t call me that.”

He was so adorable when he was scared and embarrassed. His voice shook and Fire... it made me weak, made my stomach flip with sick, sick desire... I wanted to taste him, wanted to consume him with my entire body... filling him. I would slip into his warm, warm body and spill into him, until he was filled with me... until it would never leave him.

Until it made him sick.

I felt him turn his face towards mine, breathe in my scene. Like he wanted to remember my smell... so he would never go near me again. It was like he knew I was dangerous, before I'd even really hurt him. He wanted to know what to look for, what to smell in the air when I was near, so he could get away. But he'd never be able to get away.

“Luke… my name… is Luke.”

Luke... Luke... Luke...

It was on a reel in my head, I knew in that moment, that I would never forget that name. I would have it tattooed onto my body, my most beautiful victim.

The one that wouldn't get away...

"Luke huh...? What a pretty name sweetie. It fits, very... biblical... " I teased flicking his white collared insert. He was a good little catholic boy... very clean and innocent. I could smell it on him, like he had bathed in holy water and I'd tasted his still wet flesh.

He was gorgeous when scared, like a terrified rabbit... shaking, panting in fear. It was fucking delicious...

"Well... Luke... I really must be going. Got things to do, people to see... you know how it is." I said, leaning in close again before whispering darkly into his ear... my tongue flicking out, just barely grazing right behind his ear, on his soft, porcelain neck.

"Be careful out here at night little Luke... you never know, who lurks in the shadows."

I laughed a little before pulling away, glancing, almost smirking into his own bright blue eyes. I turned and went to the sink, grabbing my shirt and slinging it over my shoulder to rest there as I walked out of the locker room, bare-chested. My fingerless gloved-hands going to slick my blonde locks back, a few strands still falling into my line of sight.

But all I could see... was him.

I didn't leave the building though... no... I turned the other way, going down into the darkness of the halls, deeper into the building. Reaching into my pocket I pulled out a smoke, lighting up and inhaling deep... before holding it, holding it, holding it... and then releasing.

Dear Fire... give me the strength and cruelty to sate my sexual hunger tonight, to slip into that warm tight body, and then... and then... take it. Filling him up, and leaving hi,m broken. Please... give me the power to tear him apart...

Amen.

Alice paused as she was pulling the loose top over her head. The sound of heavy footsteps ricocheted off the walls of the small room, crescendoing until they thudded to a halt and the water squeaked on. Her breathing became shallow and minimized at the sound and her heartbeat seemed to be very loud all of a sudden. She could hear water splashing onto the porcelain sink top. She slowly finished dressing, careful to make as little sound as possible and waited to hear the faucet's nobs squeak off.

Alice was trying to understand why she had suddenly felt it so adamant she not be noticed. Something was wrong and she had to be very, very quiet. Eventually, the water was cut off and the footsteps receded. She hesitantly stepped out of the changing room stall to examine what had occurred. She moved closer to inspect a black shirt laying nonchalantly over a sink. A puddle engulfed the floor of the sink beside it; the mirror was flecked in water droplets.

She sunk down to her haunches as she leaned over to see red-tinted droplets on the outdated off-white tiles. Blood? A loud bang startled Alice from her investigation. She stood and hurried to the entrance, stopping herself before she charged out into the open. Peering past the corner she saw the blond boy... the new one. And he was talking to a terrified Luke.

Alice watched them, wide eyed. What was he saying to scare Luke so much? The blond boy leaned toward him, whispering something in his ear. Luke's eyes, already large, seemed to almost jump from his skull in fear, his face turning redder than she had ever seen someone blush.

The boy pulled away, his voice muffled to a low hum as his back was to Alice. He leaned in to whisper something once more before he drew back, chuckling. Alice pressed herself to the crook of the wall as he turned and walked past her to retrieve his shirt and slung it across his shoulder. She stood absolutely still, but he never noticed her there. His self-satisfied swagger implying that his thoughts were far from here. She again poked her head out from the corner to watch his retreating form as he disappeared around the corner.

Alice contemplatively walked back to the changing room stall to retrieve her orange jumper she had left in a wad on the floor. She quickly grabbed it and entered the locker room, shoving it into an empty locker. Her eyes never left Luke; he was visibly shaken.

So engrossed did he seem to be in his thoughts, he didn't notice her approach the bench beside him. She picked up her notepad and pulled the long, thick chain again over her head, the familiar weight comfortable around her neck.

She stared at his features, now contorted by his troubled thoughts, and once more reached out. He seemed to flinch in surprise as her cool hand gently cupped his warm cheek. And his eyes found her own. Peace, she thought. Peace.

She saw something flicker within the depths of Luke's bright eyes that satisfied her. Her hand fell to her side as she left, slowly beginning what was to be a long walk home from this strange place.

Zaiden finished changing and turned around, ready to leave the locker room for good when someone hit him head on.

BAMB!

He knew it was Gabe before his eyes even landed on her, just by her height. No one else’s head would have smacked him in the solar plexus.

“Aye. Seriously? You just blend into things man. You’ve got to watch out for that trait before someone takes advantage of it.”

Zaiden stared at the floor, his brows lowered in a mix of confusion and anger as Gabe stormed off. All he had done was turn around. Why was this his fault? Why was he being yelled at? He stood there for a moment, just replaying what had just happened in his head. Would he always be so invisible?

He pulled his jumpsuit to his chest tightly and slowly began to walk towards the locker that he’d kept his pants in. His head was still buzzing and the pain in his back had only increased. The storm wasn’t what was bothering him right now, though. The run in with Gabe had caused him to start realize something.

There were two types of people in his life. The people who didn’t see him, or ignored him: The kids at school, Gabe, his parents. And the people who did: Mickey. And, so far, Alice. He barely knew Alice though. Maybe that would change, but for now it was how it was. And Mickey... well... Mickey wouldn’t talk to him since that night. A small part of Zaiden had known it would happen since he had seen the look in his cousin’s eyes.

He opened the locker and shoved his jumpsuit inside, his mind far from his current location. Closing the door back, he turned and headed for the exit, unintentionally ignoring everyone in the room. At that moment he wouldn’t have been able to tell you who was still there if his life had depended on it. He left through the door of the locker room and continued walking.

So here he was, realizing that the only person in the world who liked him right now was someone who barely knew him. Luke had been nice too, but there again, it was the same problem. Zaiden exited the building and his eyes fell on the bay. He stopped, just staring at it for a few minutes until a flock of birds flew overhead. He looked up to watch them pass.

A second later a single bird flew past, left behind and unnoticed by the others. Zaiden watched the bird until it left his sight and then let out a deep sigh. It was time to go home. Not home. That place didn’t feel like home. It never had. It was just time to go to his house. Out of the frying pan and into the oven.

He turned and began walking along the railing next to the bay, letting it be his guide. Maybe he’d end up back at that place with his parents. Then again, maybe he wouldn’t...

Gabe had her headphones comfortably sitting on top of her head as she walked towards the bus stop. Within 5 minutes of leaving the rest of the group she had felt someone following her but put no thought into it until she sat down on the bench and the man decided to be bold and sit beside her.

She acted as if nothing was wrong. As she started to get a sly grin, she slowly moved her right leg over her left enjoying the feeling of his eyes on her leg that was becoming more and more exposed. She leaned back, put her arms on the back of the bench and pretended to look for something off to the side. Glancing at her wrist she shook her head, pulled off one of the ear muffs and turned to him. "'Cuse me handsome, do ya have the time?" She licked her lips and smiled.

He slightly stumbled, only adding to her ego, as he brought is watch up and read her the time. "That's a nice watch!" She mentally gagged at how enthusiastic she actually sounded. "Oh...It's just kinda old."

"Well I like it. Can I hold it?"
"Sure."

She looked him in the eyes and wanted to punch him. This guy was an idiot. A complete and utter idiot. Pulling a pen out of her bag she wrote down a number she always used and traded the watch for it. As if she had planned this all out the bus arrived.

Winking she stood up. "Call me for a date and I'll give this back then." She blew a kiss as she pocketed the watch and got on the bus. She heard him call after her but walked down the aisle and sat down as she turned up her music.

She hated men. She hated her headache that wouldn't go away. Most of all she hated the fact that she had to go back tomorrow. Closing her eyes she sighed as she realized that probably after the storm her parents would be home.

Back to her perfect life which she fucking hated.