A Light In His Black Hole

All Rights Reserved ©

Chapter 4: How Dare She?


I chose to sit two rows behind the crouching weirdo girl. She tugged at her hood even tighter. To be honest, I was tempted to pull down her hood. But I decided to lure her into her own false sense of security. Once she truly immersed herself in there, I will pounce upon my prey. The goat head professor came with his books looking like a psycho with glasses. Don’t judge my sadistic view on things because everyone is different and they have their choice to view things in their own perspective and if you do judge me, I swear I will hunt you down like a wolf on a fast for a week.

Caleb and Dylan sat next to me. I have known them since I was five. They are the ones who truly understand me for who I am and why I do things. They know my pain, my darkness. They know why I hurt people to the point of psychotic amusement. Because they know, they stand by me. They support me. I knew they didn’t want to but they cared for me or whatever and because of that they chose to be similar to me. And that was and I quote Ted Bundy’s judge at his last court hearing “Extremely wicked, shockingly evil and vile”. That was what I am. Not like a serial killer or anything though. Because I hated that. I hated what my stepfather did for a living. Working as mafia king that sold drugs and sometimes women. I don’t understand the necessity behind his need to do it. He has a good educational qualification so why is there even the need of working like that? Killing people, smuggling them, drugs and all that shit. Every time I presented my displeasure at what he did for a living, I was derided and punished for not having the guts to do anything. Of course, killing people to satisfy your bloodthirstiness is called guts and bravery now, isn’t it?

I can never be the monster my stepfather is because that was how my beloved mother raised me. To never kill a person. To never go after a person’s soul and blood. After my mother’s death, I was raised by a father who in the remotest sense, never loved me. I knew it and I had proof. He abused me, physically, mentally and emotionally. Toyed with my freaking mind. And that was what made me into this thing. The thing that I am now.

The teacher introduced to himself as Mr Wilkins or something. I was busy concentrating on the girl who would be my pet for four years. Her slight figure straightened up and I could see her write down nearly everything he said. Nerd. She looked perfectly innocent and fragile. Things I used to be. That made her absolutely perfect to be my pet. She brought down her hoodie and turned around slightly and I noticed she wore a mask. But after seeing me she quickly turned around. I was sure that her eyes determined fixated on the damn professor because she didn’t want me noticing her. What a complete and pointless joke she was.

The girl right in front of me was outrageously flirting with me. She looked ok. She was hot, but her eyes never held the beauty, innocence and warmth of the eyes I literally stumbled into on the first day at the reception. I decided she would be my treat for tonight. I needed to let out my frustration anyway.

A few minutes into the class and I felt something wet against my arm. I had removed my black leather jacket and placed it one the seat and I was sitting in a half-sleeved grey shirt. Dylan was asleep and now was drooling onto my arm. His read rested on my arms and, being the wicked thing I am, I jerked my arm upwards, which sent Dylan’s head flying up to its normal position. I chuckled without a trace of a smile, while he simply glared at me with his olive-green eyes. Caleb had stuffed his knuckles into his mouth to control his laughter. This was the one thing I was jealous of when it came to my friends. They could laugh and smile. I haven’t done that in nearly eight years. It was easy for others, to simply laugh and smile, never realising how precious it is. Because once you lose it, you may just as well never get it back. And even if you want it back, you have got to struggle for it. But for me, I don’t have a reason to struggle for. There is no room for happiness in my life. I was jealous of others for having that gift. And in return, I let them know how much it feels to never smile or laugh or at least have a reason to. My stepfather ensured that.

As I was busily entertained with my thoughts, the door of the classroom smashed open. It was a man supporting the kid I had beaten up outside. He looked gruesome and the demonic part of me chuckled within. The goat head professor asked the kid “Who did this to you?“. I knew this because that was the obvious question. And the kid said my name. Zayn Draco Santiago. In other words, the devil himself as my former victims called me. The professor looked at me and I glared at him with an emotionless face. He actually gulped a little. And asked the kid for proof. Then he asked the class “Has anyone here seen the attacker of this kid?"


The professor asked the class as to who attacked the guy. He could barely stand and he was a pitiful sight. I wanted to do something but I was too afraid. But then I realised that isn’t against me. I vowed that if ever I see a bullied kid or person I would help him or her, no matter what. Because I never want anybody to be wounded as I am or go through the same pain I went through. If I chose to ignore now then it would be against what I believed in and I would most probably be left alone. But if I chose to stand up and support what I believed in, I can live in peace and I wouldn’t be restless. I chose the latter.


A resounding silence echoed off the walls of the classroom. And then I saw that weirdo raise her hand. My victim raised her freaking hand. She spoke in a voice that cracked with something I knew far too well and something I gave to people. FEAR. She said that she saw who attacked the kid. And she freaking pointed at me, facing me with her head down.No one in their right mind would have dared to do this. Yet how dare she?. Did she have at least an inkling of an idea as to who my stepfather was? Or worse yet, who I was? As I glared at her, I thought to myself: Looks like you chose to play with the freaking fire. And you are gonna play with it. Don’t worry I won’t hurt you. I will simply bully you to death.

Hope all my readers are doing well out there!!

Hugs and Kisses to everyone!!
Take care and stay safe...
Love y'all...
Continue Reading Next Chapter

About Us

Inkitt is the world’s first reader-powered publisher, providing a platform to discover hidden talents and turn them into globally successful authors. Write captivating stories, read enchanting novels, and we’ll publish the books our readers love most on our sister app, GALATEA and other formats.