Dressed to Kill // DNF

1.1

Killing people is not a hard thing to get away with. At least for George, it wasn't. That was simply because he'd been doing it for years. Years. Lots of training, lots of practice, lots of experience in those years. How many years has it been? Since he was twelve, at least, and he was nineteen now. So seven years.

He didn't know why he did it, it was simply part of his job. No, not part, it was his job. This job, however, George quite enjoyed, horrible as it might be. He found it fun.

He was twisted in all the wrong ways, George was. Twisted in all the sickest, darkest ways. He acknowledged it too. George wasn't ashamed of it, obviously.

His look sometimes scared off the people at his school, so that was a plus. Tired eyes, dark circles, heavy bags under his eyes; he didn't get picked on because of that, which he found amusing, since so many of the so called bullies were like a foot taller than him.

Speaking of school, that was where George was headed right now. His father was driving him there, in his car. As they arrived, his father parked on the side of the road to let him out.

"George," the man said. George looked up from his spot in the back of the expensive-looking car that his father owned.

"Yes?"

"Do not get into any fights today. It's only your first day of school of the year, so please make a good impression."

Ah, right, the fights. Like said before, George didn't get picked on. But that doesn't mean other people weren't picked on. George did tend to get into fights, if the 'bullies' were harassing someone for all the wrong reasons. God, he hated the people at this school. They hit each other for the smallest things, like being a homosexual or wearing glasses.

When George defended these people, it's not like they automatically became friends. That was because our lovely, British George didn't need friends. That's what he thought, anyways. The ones he defended were usually scared of him anyways, so friendship wasn't normally a problem.

"...the principal calling on your- George? George, are you listening to me?"

George sighed. "Yeah, yeah. Whatever. School ends at three, I have a job afterwards, so don't show up. I can get the butler to pick me up." And with that he opened the door and climbed out of the car.

He could hear the sigh that the man in the driver's seat let out, but he could really care less. George and his parents weren't exactly on the best of terms. Like, ever. He didn't like them, he thought they were dramatic. And they didn't seem to appreciate their own son for anything whatsoever. Aside from doing his job, but George hardly even got any praise for that. All his parents cared about was doing jobs, getting money, going to fancy parties, and shipping George off to marry some shrew of a woman that he didn't even know.

They might not have been on the best of terms, but George still did as they asked. They were his parents after all, even though they felt the farthest away from family that anyone could have. The brunette hadn't ever had anyone who felt close to family.

He shook his head. No need for useless thoughts when there were more important things to take up his headspace.

I need to be thinking about the job I have, he thought. George liked planning down to the smallest little details of things.

There was no use for something if there were flaws in its structure.

Walking inside the building, a crowd of people veered off to the sides of him. It almost made him smirk. Almost. It wasn't like George was unattractive, per se, he'd found plenty of people staring at him before. It was just simply that he was intimidating, so no one found the need to speak to him.