Inside You 🔞

*can you guys please vote and comment again 🥹

ELIAS🔪

Flashback

My legs were spread comfortably in the chair across from Principal Richards' desk, like I was waiting for a meeting instead of disciplinary action.

The knife flicked open in my hand.

Click.

Closed.

Click.

Open again.

He kept watching it.

Not me.

The knife.

That annoyed me.

"You can't bring weapons to school," he said, trying to sound all tough.

I looked at him slowly.

"It's not a weapon," I replied calmly. "It's a tool.Depends how you use it."

His jaw tightened.

I imagined how easy it would be to lean forward, press the blade just under his eye socket, and scoop.

The thought didn't make me angry. It didn't excite me either.

It just... interested me.

Like anatomy class. My favorite.

"Elias," he tried again, "your father is on his way."

I exhaled slowly.

Thank God.

Finally, someone who understands me.

"Good," I muttered, snapping the knife shut and setting it on his desk like it belonged there. "You're boring."

His face reddened.

"You threatened another student."

I tilted my head.

"I corrected him."

"You told him you'd carve your name into his ribs."

A pause.

I shrugged lightly.

"He shouldn't have touched my things."

"Your things?" he repeated.

I leaned forward slowly now, elbows resting on my knees, eyes locking onto his.

"Yes," I said softly. "My things."

The silence stretched.

He swallowed.

I smiled faintly.

Fifteen boring, turtle-slow minutes later, the door finally opened.

Black shirt. Black pants. Grey threading through his beard. My dad walked in without rushing, without apologizing, without looking impressed by the setting.

He didn't even glance at Principal Richards first.

He sat beside me and turned. Looked me directly in the eyes.

He inspected me.

Checking for bruises, or anything.

I held his stare calmly.

I'm fine.

He gave the smallest nod, then leaned back in his chair, folding his arms as he finally looked at my principal.

"John," he said evenly, "you've called me three times this month about my boy. What is it now?"

Principal Richards cleared his throat.

"Forgive me, Mr. Sinclair, but he threatened another student. And he brought a weapon to school."

My father sighed like he was exhausted by stupidity.

"It's not a weapon," he said calmly. "It's a tool."

I glanced over. "See? That's what I told him."

His eyes flicked to me instantly. "Hush."

I turned my head to the side, fighting a laugh.

Principal Richards shifted uncomfortably.

"He told the student he'd carve his name into his ribs."

My dad didn't react.

"Did he?" my dad asked evenly.

Richards blinked. "Did he what?"

"Carve his name into the fucker's ribs," my dad clarified calmly.

Silence.

"Um- no. sir."

A pause.

My dad leaned back slightly in his chair.

"So," he said flatly, "you made me drive through traffic, away from my wife, for something you could've said over the phone."

Principal Richards straightened, slipping into that polished, administrative tone. "I called because if this behavior continues, we will have no choice but to expel Elias. His constant behavior has made many students and teachers... uncomfortable."

Uncomfortable? That's it, damn. I'm offended.

I almost smiled. My dad didn't.

He leaned forward slowly, resting his forearms on his knees, hands loosely clasped like this was a business negotiation.

"Uncomfortable," he repeated calmly.

"That's an interesting word."

Richards held his posture. "He stares at people. He says things that sound like threats. He carries a knife. Teachers have expressed concern."

My dad's gaze sharpened.

"So my son makes people uncomfortable," he said evenly. "That's your complaint."

"It's more than that—"

"Has he assaulted anyone?" my dad asked.

"No."

"Has he damaged school property?"

"No."

"Has he failed academically?"

Richards hesitated. "No. His grades are... exceptional."

Of course they are.

My dad nodded once.

"So what I'm hearing," he continued, voice calm but edged with something colder, "is that my son is intelligent, observant, and does not tolerate being disrespected. And that makes your faculty uneasy."

Richards shifted in his chair. "Mr. Sinclair, this is not about intellect. It's about conduct."

My dad leaned back slightly now, studying him.

"Then perhaps," he said smoothly, "you should ensure your students conduct themselves properly before worrying about how mine responds."

Silence stretched across the office again.

"If he is expelled," Richards added carefully, "it will be documented. It will follow him."

My dad's eyes flicked to me briefly.

Then back to Richards.

"If you expel him," he said quietly, "you'd better be prepared to explain, in detail, why a straight-A student with no record of violence was removed for making people uncomfortable."

A pause.

He tilted his head slightly.

"And trust me," he added, softer now, "I will make you very uncomfortable if that explanation isn't airtight."

He didn't blink when he said it.

"I can promise you," he continued evenly, "it'll be a hell of a lot worse than carving names into chests."

Principal Richards went stiff. "Sir... did you just threaten me?"

My dad looked at him like the question was insulting.

"Yes," he said plainly. "Where the fuck do you think he got it from?"

Silence swallowed the room whole.

My dad stood slowly, smoothing down the front of his shirt like this had been a mild inconvenience.

"Idemo," he muttered in Serbian. (Let's go)

I stood.

We walked out.

The office door clicked shut behind us.

He didn't stop walking until we hit the hallway.

Then he stopped.

Turned.

Arms crossed.

"Talk."

I shrugged slightly.

"The idiot wouldn't shut up," I said flatly. "He kept talking about Mama. About Maddy. About Elijah. Kept making comments because they're darker."

My dad's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly.

"And?"

"And he kept touching my shit," I added calmly.

"After I told him not to."

A pause.

"So I knocked him out," I said.

My dad's brow lifted slightly.

"And carved my name into his chest."

He stared at me for a second.

"I thought you just threatened him," he said, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"Nah," I replied casually. "He was too scared to snitch. The teacher only heard me threaten him."

My dad let out a low chuckle.

"Did you get the fucker good?" he asked, grin widening now.

I met his eyes.

"Yeah."

He nodded once.

"Good."

Dad stepped closer and pulled me into a hug.

"Did anyone say anything about your eyes?" he asked quietly, close to my ear.

"Nah," I replied.

He nodded once against the side of my head before pulling back and looking at me seriously.

"Call your uncle," he said calmly. "I need names and addresses of the dead fuckers who talked about my family."

"Hungry?" he asked like we'd just left a grocery store.

"Yeah," I responded, already pulling my phone out and pressing it to my ear.

Uncle Eli answered on the second ring.

Dad glanced at me. "And don't tell your mother anything," he added. "Or we'll both be in trouble."

I smirked slightly. He's so scared of Mom.

End of flashback.

Death is so fucking funny when you think about it.

One second someone's breathing, talking, existing, and the next... they don't. Just gone. Poof.

Succumbed to my wrath because they grated on my nerves like a cheese grater dragged across raw eardrums.

I stood against the wall, one boot pressed flat behind me, holding my weight as I blew out a slow stream of smoke from my blunt waiting for the subway.

The metallic rhythm soothing the static in my head.

The blade was still stained from last night's little experiment.

I smiled at the memory of that high school building going up in flames. Dad and I handled it after the kids and teachers were cleared out.

Bummer, really.

Would've been cleaner if they'd all stayed inside, but rules are rules.

They were so loud back then. Constant noise.

Constant questions. "What's wrong with you, Elias?"

I'd asked Mom once, and she'd cupped my face with that soft, worried smile.

"Nothing's wrong with you, baby. You're just so handsome and smart."

Dad's answer was better. He'd looked at me like I was the only sane one in the room and said, "What's wrong with everyone else?"

Exactly.

I laughed quietly, the sound low and unhinged, as I remembered breaking that kid's nose in sixth grade just because he wouldn't shut the fuck up while I was reading.

So rude. So incredibly rude.

Of course they called my parents.

Dad basically told the principal the fucker had it coming for daring to talk while I was reading.

Mom was too busy fussing over the fresh scars I'd carved into my own face that morning just deep enough for sympathy). I even squeezed out a few perfect tears.

Dad saw right through it, but Mom bought every second. Win-win.

Her anger was always worse than his anyway. And if my Mom isn't happy then my Dad isn't and now I'm in trouble.

I clicked the knife shut one last time and put it in my pocket.

My little enablers. I love them so much. My family is honestly the closest friends I have, which I prefer.

I hate having to answer the same questions over and over from outsiders. I hate the "why" questions most of all. Those are for people with emotions who actually care about their actions. I do not.

Usually when I get this far in an explanation, they start comparing me to animal killers or school shooters.

Quite disrespectful, really. I love animals. I've never wanted to hurt anyone who didn't have it coming to them.

How pathetic of a person to kill innocent children?

To kill anyone innocent for that matter? No, my hands are reserved to kill the guilty, just like my father does.

The subway seemed to take its precious time tonight.

Although I have no complaints.

Well, scratch that. Actually the smell could be a lot better.

"New York is great Mama," I heard coming from my right, the girl's voice was soft. "It's just-just-"

Her voice cracked. Oh God, please don't tell me she's about to cry. She hadn't noticed me yet, and if she starts crying that whimpering noise will grate on my nerves so fucking bad.

I flicked ash onto the dirty floor, taking in her attire.

Scrubs, blue ones with a pink flowery bag on her shoulder, hair pulled back into a bun, and tennis shoes.

I must say, in all my years of living, scrubs have never looked this good.

Well, in high school Nurse Victoria was hot with a nice ass who sucked my dick pretty well. That was the only highlight about the place - a good nut down a nice wet throat.

Anyway, back to the whimpering girl with the fatty. I tend to get sidetracked a lot, I think I get that from my Dad.

Her ass looks delicious as she walks mindlessly, kicking little rocks with her foot while talking on the phone. Even more delicious than Victoria's.

And the crying continued about some sick fuck who finally died at some hospital I assume she works at. I mean, if he was really sick and he died, isn't that a good thing? He's no longer in pain, duhh. What exactly is she crying about?

She walked closer to the edge of the subway platform.

Hmmm. Okay. Obviously not a smart one.

Well, obviously not. Standing here waiting for the subway at 2 in the morning definitely qualifies as idiotic behavior.

I mean, anyone could just be standing right here behind her, watching her. I almost laughed, but held it in so she wouldn't hear.

My jokes have gotten even funnier.

I stayed perfectly still, blunt smoke curling lazily around me, eyes locked on the way her scrubs hugged that fat ass every time she shifted.

The platform was empty except for us.

Perfect.

She sniffled again, voice breaking on the phone. "He was only thirty-two, Mama... it's just so unfair-"

Unfair? I tilted my head, that sick, quiet chuckle finally slipping out under my breath. The only unfair thing was how loud she was being while I was trying to enjoy the view.

That is so rude, princess.

She tilted even closer to the fucking edge, leaning forward like she was looking at something on the tracks.

She obviously wants her mother to mourn her too, talking about some dead fucker but also positioning herself to become one at the same time.

Cute.

"Hold on Mama, let me call you back," she said,hanging up.

Then she leaned even further, making soft kissy noises.

"Come here baby, it's okay."

What the fuck.

I followed her gaze down to the tracks. A small, dirty dog was huddled there, trembling, looking up at her with big pathetic eyes.

She cooed again and stepped closer. Then closer. Her toes were practically hanging over the yellow line now.

I watched, fascinated, as she kept leaning, kept calling that stupid dog like it was worth risking her life for.

One more step.She wobbled.

I took three quick, long strides and grabbed the back of her scrub top, yanking her backward hard just as the subway lights exploded into the tunnel and the train came screaming toward us at full speed.

Her back slammed against my chest. I kept my grip tight, holding her there while the train roared past inches from where she'd been standing, wind whipping her loose strands across my face.

That would've been a not-so-pretty sight.

I finally let her go. She spun around instantly, eyes wide, breathing fast.

I looked at the train rushing by, then back at her, my voice calm, almost cheerful, but dripping with that unhinged edge.

"You know how fast these things go?" I asked, tilting my head.

"Fast enough to slice a body into dozens of neat little pieces. One second you're whole... the next you're just red paste on the rails. All because of a dog."

Her eyes widened with pure fear, thick lips hanging open in a soft, stunned O.

Fuck.

She wasn't just pretty from the back. She was stunning from the front too...that terrified expression looked so good on her.

My dick hardened instantly, pressing against my jeans as I took her in.

I glanced down at her name tag.

Simone.

Cute name.

She noticed and flipped the tag over with shaky hands, trying to hide it from me.

I chuckled, low and unhinged, the sound slipping out before I could stop it.

I flicked the blunt away, watching the ember die on the dirty platform, then leaned down close enough that my lips almost brushed her ear.

"Listen, Simone," I whispered, voice smooth and sickly sweet. "I don't do favors. And I definitely don't help dumb girls who are stupid enough to get themselves killed over shit like this."

I pulled back just enough to meet her wide, frightened eyes, still smiling.

"So now you owe me."

She jerked back hard, yanking herself out of my grip.

Her eyes stayed wide, chest heaving fast, that pretty mouth still parted in shock.

"Owe you what?" she asked, voice all startled and shaky.

I chuckled, low and unhinged, the sound bubbling up from deep in my chest because her fear tasted so fucking good.

I took one slow step closer, refusing to let her create any real distance.

My hand lifted on its own, thumb brushing her bottom lip before I gently tugged it down, exposing that soft, wet pink inside.

So pretty.

My eyes drank in every detail... the way her breath hitched, the way her lip trembled under my thumb.

She flinched and turned her head sharply, ripping away from my touch.

I chuckled again, quieter this time.

"Well..." I murmured, voice smooth and sickly sweet as I let my hand fall, "if I told you now, it would be a lot less fun, wouldn't it?"

I gave her one last slow, lingering look. tracing the curve of her throat, the way her scrubs hugged those heavy tits, the fat ass I'd already decided belonged to me.

"Have a good night, Simone."

I turned and walked away, boots echoing against the dirty platform, a wide, unhinged grin stretching across my face the second my back was to her.

Oh, this was going to be delicious.

She had no idea how thoroughly I was going to collect.

︎ ♡︎ ♡︎ ♡︎ ♡︎ ♡︎ ♡︎ ♡︎ ♡︎ ♡︎

okay... what are your thoughts on chapter one? be honest 👀🖤

What are you thoughts on Elias character?😀😭