Dead Girls Don't Run - fantasy version | 18+

03 | First Days Are Always Fun . . . Kill Me

I walk across the courtyard, the early morning air assaulting me. The uniform I'd been supplied with fits me almost perfectly, the button up white shirt adding a touch of class to the otherwise boring uniform. I wear the school cardigan over the top, the burgundy shade complimenting my hair nicely.

The grey plain skirt rests above my knees, with the white ankle socks and black patent shoes completing the look.

All in all, I feel like an imposter.

I reach the doors leading to the classrooms, stopping within a metre and releasing a breath I didn't know I was holding.

And then I push them open and walk in.

Instantly, I feel eyes on me, judging me and finding me lacking.

I ignore the scathing looks and whispers, turning left down the corridor to find my first class of the day.

And promptly stop at the person blocking my way.

The boy is taller than me but not by much, his dirty blonde hair swept back in what I assume he believes is 'hot mess' but just seems to be missing the hot part.

He takes a step closer, forcing me to take a step back until my back hits the lockers.

He smiles, the move showing off pearly white teeth that I'd bet money were veneers and then his arm lifts, resting on the locker beside me and caging me in.

"Haven't seen you around before."

"I'm new." I say deadpan, staring the obvious as I feel the sliminess of his gaze slip down me.

He leers at me, leaning closer until I can smell what he had for breakfast and I mentally fag before opening my eyes.

"What do you want?"

"I'm Lachlan." He says, looking up and down my body

"And I don't care." I move to the side to rid myself of his presence but he slides with me, keeping his arm up. "You're making me late for class."

"Stick by me and they won't care."

"I'll take my chances with a reprimand."

He only smiles, as if I'm flirting with him and not trying to escape.

"People call me 'The Taxman.'"

"Congratulations?"

He doesn't look impressed by my attitude but I'm not impressed by his company so guess we're even.

He raises a brow, as if the name should mean something to me and so I take the bait, "Why do they call you the taxman?"

"Girls like you have to pay a tax, and I'm more than happy to collect."

I let my eyes run down his figure before slowly letting them come back to narrow at his eyes. "And what type of things do you collect?" I let my tongue roll around the word, looking at him with thinly veiled disgust.

"He's about to collect my fist if he doesn't move the fuck away." A new voice enters the conversation and I turn my head slightly to regard the brothers, rolling my eyes at the tattooed ones words even as he moves closer, looking at Lachlan with danger swimming in his dark gaze.

Malac, his brother had called him Malac the night before.

Said brother slips in beside me, staring down at Lachlan like he's beneath him in every conceivable way, the humour on his face only skin deep.

"Back off, Lachlan. You know what happened last time you stuck your nose where it didn't belong." His words hold a deeper meaning, one I can't decipher.

Lachlan steps back, anger swallowing his features before he looks to me, the dark leer taking over before his beady eyes skim down my figure, "We'll be talking."

Malac almost growls at the look, stepping forward before his brother stops him with a hand on his shoulder. "No, you won't be."

The sound of heels making their way down the narrow hallway pulls all the boys attention, a girl coming to a stop at 'the tax man's' side, curling her hand around his bicep and shooting me a possessive look.

"What are you doing talking to the trash, Lachy?" Her eyes slip to me, lips lifting in a mocking sweet smile and she bends until we're eyes to eye. "He's taken." Her words are full of poison yet her voice couldn't be sweeter, slick with honey. As thick as it too.

I raise a brow, "I can see that, you can keep him."

Her eyes narrow, the wide doll like featured scrunching up with distaste.

One of the brothers at my back speak, voice low. "C'mon let's go."

It's like the sound of his voice has her noticing who else is part of this conversation and her eyes light up, calculation entering the otherwise empty depths, her hand letting go of Lachlan's elbow to step past Malac - giving him a wide berth and settling next to his brother.

Wind whispers against my skin, soft and sweet and tempting.

I swallow at the sudden heat that courses through my body.

"Killian, I've missed you. Why didn't you call me like you said you would?" She lifts a hand, moving to run it down Killian arm but he steps back, causing her hand to drop and a scowl to stain her otherwise pretty face.

Killian. I look to the brothers whose name I hadn't known, finding his gaze on me for all of one second before focusing back on the girl.

"I never said that."

"Yes, you did." Her words are almost musical, the lilting tone compelling.

"No." Malac says, amusement flooding his tone, "I believe he said he would kill you, not call you."

She steps back, ignoring Malacs words and slips her hand through Lachlan's elbow again.

"You know where to find me." Reaching inside her jacket pocket, she retrieved a card and hands it in the air between her and Killian, the card clutched between two perfectly manicured fingers. "Here's my number, since you seemed to have lost the other one."

A card with her fucking name and number on it. I blink at the move, shock slipping through me before she tucks it in the front pocket of Killians button up.

"He didn't lose it." Malac mutters, "we burnt it and danced around it in glee, singing 'the witch is dead.'" His voice in monotone, no amusement in the tone or in those blue eyes of his, even if the words bring me amusement.

Her doesn't give him a response, fingers tapping against Lachlans arm and then they're off, striding through the hallway.

The first bell rings, calling for people to start walking to class.

I tighten my hand on the books in my grip and leave the two brother behind me.

My feet are silent as I walk through the hallway teaming with students. My eyes skim past them seeing the everyday normalcy with which they live, sharing laughs with friends.

And then there's me, escaping my indebted life and trying to figure out what the hell is wrong with me.

My eyes catch on a sign hanging from the roof, a large arrow directing people further down the cavernous hall and I follow it with my eyes all the way to the library, the large double doors sealed shut.

Engravings litter the doors, the creatures grotesque and mythical.

Feeling a pull towards the library, I take one hesitant step before the final bell for class rings and I turn on my heel, making my way to my first class and leaving the room of information behind me.

Promising to come back later.