Don't Confuse It, He'll Always Just Be Your Prey

I smirked as I opened the heavy door to see doms sitting on desks, screaming, throwing things, doing things they shouldn't really been doing. The rowdiest of the teens being the people I call my friends, of course. Mr. Armstrong not being here helped the fact that no one was really doing anything productive.

There was a batch of new humans in the corner. Taking a deep breath, I tried to ignore the fact that their blood smelled, oh so, delicious. They didn’t' look very happy with the situation they were in, but then again who would? Only the best doms in the school were in this particular class, and I mean only the best. Our reputations seemed to make them a little more scared then let's say they were in the other class at the moment. In the other class, they sometimes get to live, but not here, never here. It was very certain that they would never see the outside world again, and that certainly was a shame because the weather was just getting to become nice again.

"Get the fuck off of my desk." I said to Andy with a smirk. It wasn't as mean as when I shoved him.

He growled. "The fuck, man?"

"I told you to get off." I restated, the smirk still on my lips.

"And, I was getting off when you pushed me." He yelled. Our faces were close together like in those stupid human movies.

I shrugged. "My bad."

There was a moment of just silence. The room seemed to quiet down for a minute, noticing the two doms in the middle of the class with dark eyes and snarling lips. I stared at Andy, right in the eyes, daring him to push me too far, just daring him. He knew I could kick his ass, and I knew he could get a few shots in before that.

My lips kept trying not to tug into a smile, and I know he wasn't holding up that well either. We bursted out laughing, and the class went back to its destructive self in less than thirty seconds. That is, until our teacher walked in with a look to kill on his face. It took a total of thirteen seconds for everyone to shut up and get in their seats.

"Good afternoon, class." He said without his usual humor about him. His spikey, black hair seemed to be a little longer today, and a part flopped down into his eyes.

There were some mumbles from occasional students in response.

"I'm sorry for my attitude today. Something happened with my fertile and a human this morning, and let's just say, I am not happy with it." He explained. A few of us couldn't hold in the growls all of us knew we were feeling. There are some things that shouldn't be messed with. The top of that list being our fertiles. It doesn't matter which fertile, and it doesn't matter who that fertile's mate is. If you mess with them, all of us will see to it that you are fucked up. It is quite simple really.

"Yes, yes, more on that later." Mr. Armstrong said, waving his hand in the air. "Let's get started. Who wants to tell me what we did last class?"

Gerard raised his hand casually when he saw everyone was still stuck on the fact that something happened with a fertile we have not and will never meet and a fertile. "The effects of different solutions on wounds." He replied before he was officially called on. There was one thing about that guy that just scared humans shitless. One, he looked scary, but the way he acted, that's what scared them. He didn't care who's life he was destroying. He didn't care if you begged or cried. He just didn't really care about that much in general, and he will cut you down with a straight face and tell you what his problem is with you. Hell, this morning he killed two people for talking to Frank. Was it Frank? Yeah, for talking to Frank the wrong way, not even a drop of blood was on his shirt.

"Good," the teacher replied in response. "Today, we will be practicing that. Who brought the scum today?"

A few doms around the room raised their hands. I hated when I had to bring a human to class. They always begged and cried, and god, was it annoying! Jeez, I'm trying to get an education here! They weren't helping. That, and the fact that most of the time I had to force myself not to torture or kill them right then and there.

"Split into teams of two, and use the substances up here on simple cuts and slices. I don't want to see you guys getting too elaborate with this. The point is to see which substance causes the most pain." He instructed.

Everyone split into teams, and Pete came up to ask me. I said yes, of course. Pete and I were good friends. He was a funny guy, and a good dom, nothing much to complain about there.

"So, how did things go with what's his name last night?" He asked me.

I was strapping the human to the table and momentarily looked up. "Max? Fine, I guess. Well, not really. He flipped the fuck out this morning. I don't think he really understands what's happening yet." I replied, handing a scalpel to him while I had a knife.

"Well," Pete said, running the sharp blade down the human's arm. The blood creped slowly down its tan skin. I had to suppress a shudder. "It must be hard you know. I've seen that kid around before this, and he always looked terrified. You just kind of had to pity him, ya know?"

"Yeah, I'm just afraid he's going to stay like that for a long time." I replied, my own knife creating quick gashes down the other arm. I handed over the salt and pesticide over to Pete who then rubbed the salt along the cut he made moments before. The human grimaced and tried to scream. It was smart. The screaming usually just made us more blood thirsty. I was shocked to see how quite the room was, only an occasional scream, but that was from the other side of the room where they were using gun powder.

"I'm sure he'll get used to it. I mean all of their fertiles go through a faze where this shit happens. Apparently living with us is different to them." He shrugged, aimlessly pouring the acidic based liquid down the open cut.

"Well, no one really wants to live with us." I replied, covering a few gashes with bleach, liqour, and glass fragments.

"I don't know about you, but fertiles jump into my house." He said over the now screaming human with a smirk. Pete quickly turned and smacked the human across the face. "Shut the fuck up," he said. "Don't you see we are trying to have a conversation?" The human’s eyes went wide, but otherwise didn't say a peep more.

"Speaking of fertiles how's Patrick?" I asked. A series of new blood dripping cuts were running down the human's chest, each with something very painful entering into them.

"He's doing good, so fucking adorable. He met my parents last night, too. They seemed to like him, but he didn't talk all that too much to them." Pete answered. It was strange to hear about Pete's parents. He wasn't in a situation like mine, but he stopped living with his parents three years ago. He explains it as one day he just up in left, sick of his father's bull shit or something. Mr. Wentz, as we call him, is a business man who doesn't quite understand Pete. He just doesn’t get that Pete has more of a need to see things suffer than he ever did, and he never really wants to go into the family business, as he father ever so desires.

"Does he even talk at all?" I asked, now remembering I've never seen the small blond open his mouth.

"Yeah," he said. "Sometimes. He just doesn't do it in public all that much. He's not really a socaially butterfly."

"Good thing he got you then." I mumbled.

He looked up with a smirk. "Are you implying something, Radke?" He asked, pointing his scalpel at me. Blood ran from the blade, dripping onto the floor.

"Nothing at all, sir. Please, will you ever forgive me?" I responded, using my best begging face.

"I don't think I like your tone." He said with narrowed eyes.

"I don't think I like you, but alas, both problems are here to stay." I responded, my own smirk forming.

He opened his mouth to say something when he looked down at the human. "Is it dead?" He asked.

I put my hand over its mouth to feel for breathing. "I think so."

Pete sighed. "A well, that’s no fun. We didn't ever get to try the maggots."