𝑫𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒍𝒚 𝒄𝒍𝒂𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒔, 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒍𝒚 𝒃𝒐𝒚𝒔

the start

Kings Dominion. A school for scumbags, rich psychopaths and future cartel leaders. What do they all have in common? We get taught how to be the crazy assassins we are. Everyone has an urge to hurt each other. Why wouldn't you? Humanity is fucked. And Kings dominion is the big fuck up school where all that is wrong with us can be channeled into murdering for a wad of cash.

The courtyard is buzzing with students. All of them equally crazy. Some of the students here deserve to be in straight jackets. Like Chico. A Mexican guy with some ugly buzzcut. It's 1987. Buzzcuts are not it, man. Chico is the leader of the Sato Vatos. His girlfriend, Maria, is fucking terrified of him. I'm not surprised. He is a scary fucker.

I walk to my locker. I forgot my knife in there. Right next to my locker is a new guy. I smile. He's cute. Even though he's covered in scars he looks sweet. The boy opens his locker, inside is a cloth doll with a knife through it's heart. Oh. Not so cute. The kid looks terrified. On the doll is a note that says 'child murderer.'

Brandy walks up to him. Oh god. Not Brandy. She's the most racist woman alive. Together with her gang, Dixie Mob, she makes everyone who's not Caucasian miserable. The blonde bitch stops right in front of the new kid and she glares at him so hard I'd even be scared. The new guy however doesn't move a muscle.

"You're a Mexican?" she asks with the most disdain I've ever heard from anyone's mouth. He looks at her, closing his locker. I'm staring my little eyes out at the interaction of the two.

The curly haired newcomer turns around to her and looks at her, returning her glare. "Nicaraguan, actually." he speaks. Nicaragua? I don't remember that from geography. Whatever. I had an F for that test.

"Whatever. You don't belong here." she says to him, annoyed as ever. She struts away. She's a walking problem. Someone better kill her.

And now Maria walks up. He's popular with the girls. Competition. I close my locker after getting my books out and walking to my lesson. My favourite lesson at that: psychopathy. As a little girl, I wanted to be a children's psychiatrist. So psychopathy is the closest thing to studying psychology. I sit down in the back of the class, leaning against the wall at my left. Our teacher, the serial killer that is called 'the zodiac killer' in the papers, is strapped to a chair. Just to make sure we don't get hurt.

The new kid is here, too. I heard people call him a rat. He probably is. He smells like shit. But who can blame him. He was homeless for a few months before coming here. The teacher starts to take attendance.

"Y/N!" he calls out. "Present." I say in a bored voice, staring at the new kid. "Marcus!" I hear the teacher yell. The new kid answers with a bored "present."

Marcus, huh? nice name.