September 15, 1924

The uproar of chatter as they all move along the hard concrete floor. I hear a hint of laughter pass behind me as I walk towards the building.

I can hardly keep steady on these uneasy two parted legs. I am now back in this abaddon's raise of imprisoned youth camp, .

Hmm, as expected, this private school hasn't changed the least bit since the beginning of sophomore year. Other than that I am not looking forward to this year. At all.

The young boy approaches the steps that lead to the front of the school. He, alone, sits on one of the steps, laying his book bag beside him. The bells haven't rung, yet. Detached in the lack of interest of his surroundings, he fiddles with his fingers. One, two, three, four, five…finger by finger, over and over in his head.

Ahead of his counting, three kids stand just a few feet away from him, observing his countless ends of fingers and his features. Black blazer, school emblem on top of his right, white collared top with a red and striped navy blue tie, grey dress shorts, and black knee high socks with black dress shoes. Typical uniform standards for the young male of , but his black curled hair and his semi-pale skin made him seem more colder than the rest of the kids at school. The three kids begin to talk among one another about the mysterious boy playing with his fingers.

"Well, I'll be damned…" one of the kids said, crossing his arms. "That's the same boy from last year." He unbelievably shook his head. One of the boys from the group squinted his eyes at the boy and in no doubt he knew what he was exactly talking about.

"I can't believe he would have the nerve step on this campus again." The kid with the squinting eyes said.

One of the kids from the group overlooked his appearance and had no idea who he was and why they didn't seem to like him.

"What? Who is he?" He questioned.

"You weren't here last year on what he did. Everyone was talking about it." The kid with the crossed arms turned to him. About to open his mouth again he was interrupted by the other boy who spoke of him.

"Yeah, he left in the beginning of the school year after he allegedly took advantage of a young girl." He spoke in disgust.

"And a young boy too." The other kid reassured the other who was talking.

"Uh, actually that was a rumor."

"No, it was true! I heard it from the other kids."

"Bologna, what kids? It's all talk."

"Yeah, yeah, sure, sure," He scoffed, nodding his head in a sarcastic manner. "Whatever he's done, you know that no one in this school likes him."

"Ohh, how sad." The boy who listened, now jumped into the conversation.

"Sad!" The other kid turned to him, raising one eyebrow. "It's anything BUT sad. The little creep deserves no friends and it should stay that way."

"Yeah, and I hear he's an animal killer too." The other said.

"Really? That's awful!" The listener said in an alarming voice.

"Weeeeell, mixed stories here and there." He gestures his hand sideways. "But, the word got around when he choked his neighbors dog."

"And he ate the dog after that!" The other kid continued as the boy who listened widened his eyes at him.

"Heh, don't listen to him. Never happened, I-I think…" He tipped his chin.

"Gee, I think I've had an earful of talk about him lately." The listener frowned, unsure what to believe and what to think about this boy who supposedly has a bad reputation behind him. He looks like a decent boy to get along with, but something about him seemed eerie, even for a kid like him who didn't know the boy.

"Ha, just make sure you don't bump into him." The kid chuckled, nudging his arm.

"Hehehe, or else he'll eat you up!" The other one laughed as they both laughed together, saying harmless jokes to one another, bump to bump.

The listener just shook his head away from the two boys who were now jokingly talking to each other. Blabbering comments made him uninterested in the talk of nonsense.

Left out of the conversation, he glanced over at the boy and to his surprise the boy was staring directly at him. His breath dropped, the hairs on his skin tensed up as he gravely stared into his aphotic eyes.

The bells aloud rang for the start of class to begin. The curl-haired boy did not move nor did he move his eyes from the kid who dared to look his way. His breath slightly escaped when he opened his mouth, his eyes quickly avoided his trancelike trap. He then began to head off to class in another direction away from the front entrance of the school.

He dared not to look back, afraid that he might still be there, but he couldn't help but to peek over his shoulder. The boy was already gone.