Lamb To The Slaughter

001

PART ONE

Hongjoong

I stared down at the eyes reflected back at me.

Pain and fear filling them to the brim.

Thoughts like "Is this my final moment?", "Should I beg for my life?" must've been running through his head.

My finger became itchy, asking for me to hurry up and pull the goddamn trigger. I stared at him longer than necessary, relishing in the look in his eyes.

I knew I was born wrong. Or maybe it was how I was raised, my behavior being encouraged instead of nipping it in the bud.

It wasn't exactly my fault, now was it? No, I'd like to think not. I got over my remorse long ago.

I pulled the trigger, the recoil vibrating through my bones and the shot exploding in my ears.

Killing someone was different from the movies, I've come to realize. I watched a lot of horrible movies growing up but actually doing it myself? A different experience altogether.

In the movies, there was always that moment where the hole would go through their head, and they'd still be in position, watching as the light drained from their eyes.

But in real life, it was a lot quicker and more brutal. Especially if you shoot them in the head like I was taught to do. There wouldn't be any hesitation or slow mo of their eyes going dark - no.

In real life? The moment the bullet went through their skull, they'd hit the floor, having nothing to keep them upright any longer. They'd hit the ground with a thud.

There wouldn't be a chance to stare them in the eyes and watch them because they'd be gone and dead already.

It was simpler that way.

I tapped my pencil endlessly against the back of my hand. The beginning of the school year, a year I shouldn't even be attending.

The whole attendance issue was really bullshit. I was smarter than all of my peers and teachers combined, but something as miniscule as attendance was the thing that held me back.

It wasn't exactly like I could explain how I was off busy killing people, now could I? Not exactly, no.

I just had to suck it up. I didn't care much if I dropped out, but college was something my mother wouldn't leave alone. She wanted me to go to my father's college before I had the opportunity to gain his throne of sorts. It must've also been her way of trying to get me in a relationship.

That was one thing about the whole process I could never fully understand. The whole having to marry someone before you can settle down and take your position at the head was a bit annoying.

I understood their perspective. Wanting your sole focus to be as the leader, getting that out of the way was important.

Either way, it didn't matter much to me right now. I was young, and everyone in my age range never appealed to me much. Maybe it was the early hardships I faced when I was younger, but I wanted someone older and more mature.

Having someone who was interested in unimportant things like TV shows or games, or books didn't impress me.

That's why I stayed quiet during my classes and stayed away from the other students. Exactly how could I relate to a kid talking about anime?

As much as I would've preferred the back so I could stay away from all of these bozos, it would just do the opposite. No one wanted to sit in the front, especially the talkative ones.

So that was my best bet.

I heard a soft "Holy shit-" from behind me, and then one of the girls bumped into my desk, making my sketchbook fall off the table and fall onto the ground.

I ignored her lack of apology and instead reached down to grab it when her foot stepped right on top of it. I ground my teeth, planning on stabbing her with my pencil to just get her the fuck off when there was a low but soft spoken voice that spoke firmly through the room.

"Please, Tara, take your seat."

Quickly, she moved off my sketchbook and to her desk that was only a couple away from mine and in seconds, slender and well manicured hands grabbed my sketchbook.

The man dusted the top off, getting rid of the footprint that had dirtied the cover and then eyes met mine, a friendly smile worn on perfect plump lips.

"This is yours?" He asked, handing it to me easily. His eyes were wide and kind, his face so beautiful it stunned me.

It could've felt similar to a kdrama moment if I let it get to me. I could've easily been a flustered mess with just how charismatic he seemed.

I grabbed it, flashing him a brilliant smile back that made his eyes spark in response. "Yes, thank you."

He gave a firm single nod, carrying an abundant amount of authority in his aura despite how kind and soft he also was. "I'll be your English teacher this year." He said a bit louder, no longer just speaking to me as he straightened to address all of his students.

It was fast and brutal how quickly I felt a twinge of jealously over seeing how swiftly he moved on. I wanted to be devastated, and I had no idea why.

Oh fuck.

I wouldn't survive him.

And maybe this is where my immaturity showed. Because I had a strong need to make sure he wouldn't survive me either.