Right now, I am being stared at by a demon.

His glare is piercing and his stance is strong. It feels as though he can easily peer into my soul... And take it.

It has been this way ever since the first day back from winter break two weeks ago. My high school, Purebred High, is a private school that only the elite of the elite attend. It is famous for schooling the children of the world's most famous including politicians, entertainers, producers, directors, businessmen, company heads, the impressive list continues.

This school is perfect in every way. It is large and the neoclassical designed grounds are so breathtaking you are almost overwhelmed with the sheer obnoxiousness of it. The curriculum is intense, but the teachers are diligent and the graduation rates are impeccable. If you graduate from PBH you are sure to have a famous and successful life. The only flaw worth mentioning is that this school lives right next to another one.

It’s strange to imagine two different high schools sitting literally a fence away from each other, but that is what happens when the most famous mobster and drug dealer of the century, The Demon Master, builds a school for all the delinquents and other less than elite students in the area.

Venom High is a dark place- cursed- most people say. It looks normal from the outside, run down and trashed with broken windows and graffiti littering its first floor walls, but what really makes it cursed are the students that attend it. I’ve heard you won’t survive if you are not strong and fierce and aggressive. Most of the kids there have been in and out of juvi some, it is rumored, have even gone to a real prison! For things like murder! Taking and torturing hostages! Robbing banks and homes!

It’s incredible and not in the good way!

There is an unspoken, but unbreakable rule that exists between the students from each school: Purebred and students and Venom students are unable to converse with each other. Period. The. End.

So why is Zayne Vossen, son of the Demon Master and heir to his entire mafia enterprise, staring at me?

It’s because I broke that carnal rule.

    "Shae!" I jumped breaking my stare from Zayne’s glare and turning to see Jacob. “Seriously Rhys?! Not only are you some shit commoner, but now you’re attracting the attention of the devil’s spawn!” Jacob is the son of a congressman and is in my grade. As captain of both the debate and chess clubs he is held in high esteem at this school and has gained many followers including son of a famous lobbyist, Levi Krankshaw, and Tom Deville, son of Lorraine Deville sing, actress extraordinaire!

    “Oooh! Looks like someone’s soul is getting eaten tonight, Tom!” Levi jeered as he rested his arm on his friend’s shoulder.

    Tom smiled and started wailing around aggressively while screaming to mimic my soul being taken as his friends laughed behind him. He got too close to me for my comfort and I pulled back walking away ignoring their jeering and taunts about how I don’t belong in this school and how they hope Zayne beats me to a pulp when I go home today.

    A year! It’s been a whole year since I transferred into this school and still they tell me I don’t belong all because they don’t know my background, but what does it matter if my dad is a janitor or a businessman or a teacher? Why do they care so much? It’s not like my parents are around anyway!

    The day moved by boring, quiet. Art was after lunch and that is the only class that I actually enjoy attending! I love sketching and painting, using shadows and different color shades to create a lifelike portrait that expresses my feelings. Feelings are so hard to describe, but when you put a color to them and paint them out or express them in the shading of the picture… It just makes sense. It helps me feel free, less suffocated.

    The bell for the end of class signaled and everyone immediately raced to file out of the room. I hate being caught up in that mess! I pack my notebook away slowly zipping up my backpack as I see the classroom basically empty and make my way to the door.

    "Mr. Rhys Shae, please come here for a moment.” Mrs. Doubleday called out. I groaned internally and spun around to see her wrinkled form hunched over a stack of papers lying on her desk.

    “Yes… Mrs. Doubleday?” I asked avoiding her glare. Like most everybody else at this school she is obsessed with social standing her, herself coming from a long line of famous entertainers and marrying a world renowned plastic surgeon (though if he made her face, I don’t see how he can be that good!). However, this all means that she hates me like everybody else.

    After the initial shock of having a “nobody”, whose background they didn’t know, in the school the thrill fell away and now people usually ignore me, but there are still a few who try to make things hard on me. Example number one: Jacob and his followers. Example number two: Mrs. Doubleday.

    “Your screenplay is not up to par with the rest of the class’ and I want you to redo it,” She stated coldly.

    “It’s a five page screenplay of a documentary. I included everything on your checklist,” I argued knowing there was nothing wrong with my assignment.

    “It’s dry.  I can tell that you put no effort into it. You’re a slacker, Mr. Shae, and I won’t accept that in my class.”

    “It’s a documentary on plant vegetation! It can’t be any more lively and I researched all of the material using academic journals-“

    “I will hear no more of this, Mr. Shae. You will redo the paper and have in turned back to me in two days. If your subject is dry choose a better one.” I didn’t argue back this time. What is the point? I just glared at her; actually, I’m a little surprised she didn’t tack on five more pages. Just as I opened the door and nearly had one foot out of the classroom, “Mr. Shae,” Dang it! “Make your new screenplay ten pages longer than before. Show me your effort.”

    I left the classroom slamming the door behind me and ran straight o my locker unseen and unbothered.  Twenty pages?! Why? Because they don’t know who my parents are? It makes me sick!

    I grabbed my brown paper bag from my locker and headed out of the drama building and towards my quiet sanctuary. I passed the lecture hall and the science building before swinging behind the back of it and seeing the supply shed that rests just behind the campus. It’s a secluded area that provides relaxing shade or warm sunlight depending on where you sit and nobody comes here… Well, almost nobody.

    There he is again. Just like the first time I truly laid eyes on the murderous beast everybody talks about. The demon himself, Zayne Vossen, is sitting in my favorite spot in my secret sanctuary! It looks like his lip and forehead are bleeding as well as his knuckles. He looks so worn out, tired. His usually gelled-back-perfectly hair is disheveled and he has black curls falling into his eyes as he clutches his right side.

    Even without ever seeing him before it wasn't difficult to figure out who he was. He is a huge guy (and I mean huge!) and his blue eyes are just as deadly as the rumors say. Most people associate blue eyes with sweet and passive people, but his are deep and they paint a whole different picture! That shade of blue is hard to pinpoint and difficult to replicate- trust me I’ve tried many times since I first met him to create that fierce blue in my paintings. However, there is one feature that lets the world know exactly who he is:  His demon wing.

    It is said that every gang member who follows Vossen has an earring of a demon wing, however the leader and his immediate family’s are of a different more unique style. Over the fence that separates the two schools I have seen many guys and a few girls with a red and black earring in the shape of a boney wing, but Zayne’s is different. I recognized the design the moment I saw him. Instead of the ring just handing down from the right earlobe, like most of the followers, his black feather demon wing cups around his entire ear and ends in a sharp point.

    He must have gotten in another fight- not unusual according to the rumors- but this one must have been a bad one. The way his face is set so tensely and the way he is gripping and massaging his side must mean that it hurts a lot. Looks like he took a bit of a beating… I wonder what the other guy looks like?

    The first time I saw him I panicked a bit after realizing who he was, but he seemed so calm and like he had no more energy so I just left him a few Band-Aids that I usually carry with me, a water bottle, and a few crackers.

    I took a deep breath trying to control my rising nerves as I dug through my backpack finding the Band-Aids and water bottle. Rumors say he is deadly, they say he has single-handedly killed every member of at least three full gangs that had tried to threaten his father’s territory, and they say one look can send you straight to hell.

    I as I walk towards him I scold myself just like I did the first time I approached him: Why are you walking near him? He is going to kill you! Do you have a death wish?! It’s not like anyone would notice if a demon ate my soul and I didn’t return home. Plus, the majority of the school already thinks I shouldn’t be here, so what does it matter? It matters ‘cause I don’t want to have my soul taken! I don’t want to be killed! But he is hurt and he isn’t eating anything during lunch break… Besides rumors are stupid- I know that first hand- they are mostly lies or exaggerated tales. But the fact remains this is the biggest, more feared mobster’s son: Zayne Vossen!

    “For you,” I said repeating the exact same phrase I had told him two weeks ago when he first appeared in this spot. I had the Band-Aid and he water bottle held out expecting him to take them, just like the last time, and only getting glared at with those piercing blue eyes, just like the last time. Deja-Vu!

    We stared at each other for a good while as my panic and anxiousness under his gaze continued to grow. I placed the items on the floor beside him, noticing that I was shaking, and swiftly turned around to go find another place to eat. I got halfway between the shed and the science building when the faint mumble, “Grazzi,” fluttered into my ears.

    Gra-? What?!

    I turned around on instinct, without even thinking, just in time to see Zayne down half of the bottle of water and pour the rest of it over his head so that it dripped down his face. He ran his hands over his now wet hair effectively pinning it to his head in this usual sleeked back style before lifting his shirt slightly to glance down at his side.

    I bit my lip contemplating what I should do next. The smart thing would be to walk away and mind my own business, but something about seeing him hurt and alone- I couldn’t leave him.

    Digging through my brown lunch sac, I pulled out the stack of napkins I had packed this morning and walked up to him once more. He looked up and glared dangerously at me, but didn’t say a word as I cautiously lowered myself to my knees. I raised the napkin towards his face and he flinched back automatically and grabbed my wrist with a tight squeeze.

    “Oh! Uh… I was just going to… Y’know, wipe the blood from your lip and head. Um, here y-you can do it.” I tried to hand him the napkin when his grip loosened, but he just stared at me.  I cautiously, slowly raised my hand again and this time he didn’t pull away. I swallowed hard and did quick work in wiping away the blood when I noticed something on his red, welted cheek. I took off my glasses to get a closer look, “Y-You have a splinter on your cheek here. What were you hit by?”

    He didn’t reply, just shrugged his shoulders looking away from me and down to the ground. I sighed, leaning in to get a better look, “Well it had to be a wood something or other. It doesn’t look too deep. If I go to the nurse’s office I can get some tweezers. I can probably get it out for you.” I said before pulling back. It was then I recognized how stiff he was. He was covering his mouth, while watching me closely, and his ears seemed redder than before. I gave him a confused look tilting my head to the side softly before glancing down and realizing exactly how I had placed our bodies when I had moved in.

    I was kneeling between both of his legs and had both hands resting on his thighs, not to mention that just moments before I was literally 2 centimeters from his face! Awkward.

    I raised my hands in surrender and mumbled an apology before ducking my head and trailing off to go and get the tweezers.

~`~`~`~`~`~

    The nurse thinks I’m a freak! It’s official. Coming in and asking for a random pair of tweezers for a friend who has a splinter instead of the ‘friend’ coming in on his own is weird, but she gave them to me anyway. I made my way back to the shed and turned the corner expecting to see him still sitting there, but he was gone.

    I looked around the entire shed and sighed plopping in the place he had been sitting- my favorite spot. I grabbed my paper bag that I had left there and opened it to see not only my icepack, but half of my sandwich and apple missing!

    The sneaky little (well not so little) thief took my lunch!

    If I had stayed I would of shared with him anyway… Guess this is what happens when you share with the rumored leader of Venom High’s student body!

    I closed the door to my apartment and let out a deep sigh. Another torturous day in that prejudice, chauvinistic hell hole done and over with. Now I get to spend the rest of my night rewriting that damn documentary! “Put in more effort!” I sneered! I walked through the spacious living room and down the hall to my room, dropping my backpack on my bed and going into the bathroom to wash my hands. I walked out to the large kitchen and prepared a snack since half of my lunch was stolen!

    I turned on my IPod and blared it so that it would drown out the ticking of the clock. That is the most annoying sound on the face of the planet! Maybe I should write a documentary on clocks and how they can drive a person crazy or how ridiculous it is to buy your kid his own two bedroom apartment for him to live in alone! Yep, those sound like winners.

    Better yet I could write about the lack of parenting that happens in this day and age! Teachers who treat A+ students like scum because they don’t know their social standing! Kids who get their jollies out of belittling others! Or the rise in delinquents who steal people’s lunch’s!

    All of those sound like fabulous ideas for documentaries!

    I roll my eyes at my pathetic-ness before washing the plate and making my way to my room where it is free of any ticking clocks. I walk past my blue and black striped bed and sit at my black painted desk flipping open my laptop and turning on my desk light… The only thing that really interests me is art and lately I have been obsessed with finding that perfect blue hue.

    This isn’t the first time I have been obsessed with nailing a perfect hue of a color. Its pretty normal for me, actually. The last color I was hung up on was red. Not bright red or brick red, like you can find in any paints store, but the most perfect shade of blood red. I wanted to create a color as vibrant and life-affirming as if I had pricked my own finger.

    It sounds a little dark, but red is an amazing color that is the center of our lives and emotions. It is the core that connects every soul to its body and every person to their family.

Red for passion.

Red for love.

Red for life.

    I accomplished this about six months ago when I was walking through the lake about a city over. It is a tranquil serene place and right under the surface of the water are red stones. The stones are a weak enough solid that when scratched across a harder surface they break down into a fine powder and when mixed with a bright red paint and a little bit of water it creates the identical color of the blood in our veins.

    My phone buzzed in my back pocket and I swiped to answer it mindlessly not checking who was calling. A deep sigh resonated from the other end of the line and I smiled knowing who it was and the lecture I was about to get, “Really Kid?! One ring! You didn’t even check who it was that was calling you! I could be some psycho- serial murderer who wants to kill you after he toys with your mind through a series of phone calls! Or worse! I could be your father! Oh wait… Too late, I guess I already am!”

    I laughed at him, “You are so dramatic, Jeremy! I mean really. What serial murderer would want to come after me?” I rolled my eyes at him even though he couldn’t see me.

    “Hey now. Your father is a real bastard and as much as you know I love your mother she isn’t the nicest actress to work with.” We both scoffed at the same time knowing that was true.

    “-But I thought you were my father,” I fake pouted and heard his chuckle on the other end making a smile pull at my lips.

    “I am! I’m your Bonus Dad! Aren’t you lucky? Hell, but even my own work creates enemies. Not a lot of people support an American philanthropist trying to build co-ed schools for Pakistani children.”

    “That doesn’t mean that anybody is going to come after me. Nobody even knows I exist,” I mumble into the phone.

    “Isn’t that how you wanted it? Taking your mother’s maiden name while you are in that school pissed your father off to no end. I actually got a phone call from his secretary, because heaven forbid he actually touch a phone, about corrupting you to turn against him.” My jaw clenched at the mention of my father. I didn’t want people knowing who I was and judging me by what he had done, but that had created its own separate issues in that school. “Besides nobody knowing that you exist isn’t true and you know it. I call you every other day and your mother is always asked in interviews and by fans about how you’re doing.”

    Jeremy is trying to sound happy, but we both know she doesn’t really give two shits about me. “Whoopy for me. Too bad she never calls and asks me how I’m doing. Maybe if she did she wouldn’t have to lie to them. Nope! She moved to Canada to film her television series and forgot I even exist. You hop over to Pakistan to build a couple of school and leave me to my dad who sticks me in an empty apartment, puts me in that god awful school, and then ignores my existence too!” I rant.

    I could hear Jeremy’s concerned sigh over the phone and pull my hair for burdening him with all of this when he trying to do a good thing for kids who need it. I’m such a selfish prick! “He has always ignored you and your mother and I made the decision we did because the education that you can get from that school is priceless and because you are old enough and savvy enough to live on your own. What’s really got you down, buddy?”

    This is just like Jeremy. Even though he is only my step-father he is the one who cares the most about me. He has his own life and his own passions, but he has felt like a father to me since he married my mom five years ago. I am who I am, because he cared.

    “Nothing,” I sighed, “Just a weird day at school. I think I’m just in a negative mood.” A loud noise sounded in the background and I heard Jeremy’s far away screaming before he came back on the line.

    “Sorry about that, Kid. I have to go. One of the construction workers is being a little bitch!” He yelled the last part so that the other person could hear him which started a whole new set of yelling and crashing from the other end of the phone. “Just ignore those at your school who are too pompous and who cause you problems-”

    So the whole school? Great…

    “- Make some friends, you weird loner!” He laughs and I roll my eyes… “Last, but not least: Check your caller ID. Bye Bud love ya!” And with that the line went dead.

    I watched my phone end its call and sighed, “Love ya, too.” I closed my eyes and pinched the bridge of my nose trying to think about the damn documentary, but all I saw were those blue eyes. Maybe he is stealing my soul like all the rumors say? I haven’t been able to get him out of my head!

    I opened my eyes and looked at the bulletin board in front of me. I had one personal picture of me and Jeremy pinned to the bottom right corner and right next to that was a magazine clipping of me and my mom on her and Jeremy’s wedding day.  I was wearing a small smile, but other than that I am emotionless. I looked so different from back then. I was so angry at my mom since all she did was interview and press releases- for some reason I had it in my head that when she finished filming her movie she would have more time for me, but she wanted to marry Jeremy and had to promote the movie. Plus… When she didn’t believe me…

    I moved my eyes away from myself and to my mom who was wearing her political smile. She doesn’t really smile all that much when the cameras aren’t on her. If she’s not yelling at someone, then she is complaining about something. She just can’t ever be happy and all she cares about is her. It’s sad really. I wish she cared even a little for me…

    My eyes then moved to the blurry figure behind her.  His body is tall and strong like it always was when he was on duty as her body guard and his dark eyes are glaring at the back of my head. I shivered at the thoughts and tore my eyes away from the clipping.

    I remember during that time I felt so hurt and so alone. It was around then when I realized that nobody really cared about who I was or how I was feeling about anything. They didn’t care that I was hurt or scared. All that mattered was their businesses and their own personal ventures. I had acted  out by bleaching my naturally light brown hair and chopping it all off to create buzzed wave designs on my head, I got my ears pierced and a nose ring, I even got henna tats all to embarrass my parents and get their attention.

    Sounds pretty shitty even to me and I do regret it, but I was pissed and the only one who noticed was Jeremy.

    With his help the transformation didn’t last too long and I let my hair regrow and died it back to my natural color. I also had to get glasses around that time and now I look like a normal, average nerd except for the fact that I kept my pierced ears and didn’t let them close in like I did my nose ring. Heh, it’s no wonder no one recognizes me at this school. I’m taller and less bulky than I was five years ago… I’ve really changed a lot.

    The rest of the bulletin board is filled with my art and some art from my most favorite artists as well as inspirational quotes. My eyes zeroed in on one that I forgot I had pinned: If you’re ever feeling stuck, go back to the beginning. I bit my lip and placed my hands on the keyboard of my laptop and I started to type my screen play, a documentary on how to create specific colors and shades all the while thinking of those damn blue eyes.

    The next day, I turned in my assignment and everything went smoothly. A few comments here and there about how I don’t belong, a few tips and pushes by people I don’t talk to, but all in all a quiet and normal day. Lunch came and I half expected to see Zayne sitting in my spot, but he wasn’t there.

    I sat down in my usual place with a sigh and pulled out one of the two sandwiches that I had prepared. I guess I really was expecting him to be here.

    Or was I hoping for it?

    We didn’t  have much of a conversation yesterday, but it was more than before, plus not being able to get him out of my head was driving me bananas! I put in my headphones and started to eat peacefully, alone. Quiet and normal.

    A shadow was cast over me pulling me from my own little world and I looked up to see a tall figure looming above me. The sun was shining just right so he looked like was a black silhouette. I raised my hand to shield my eyes and squinted to get a better look at the no one other than Zayne Vossen.

He came back!