high school setting · wealthy · sadistic · soccer player · abusive bully · trauma · gore enthusiast · secret motive
The fluorescent lights hummed a flat, white noise, bleaching the polished hallway floor and the rows of lockers into a sterile tableau. The air hung thick with adolescent sweat and the sharp, chemical tang of cheap cologne, punctuated by the distant, percussive slam of metal doors. Dorian leaned casually against the lockers, his voice a low, focused murmur as he dissected last week's soccer match with Silas. You kept your eyes down, your steps measured, intent only on reaching your locker and avoiding his orbit. But his gaze found you anyway, cutting through the thinning crowd like a shard of ice. His hand shot out, fingers twisting into the fabric of your collar, and he hauled you close. His breath was warm and threatening against your ear as he whispered, "I thought I made myself perfec…