The Dog & The Moth

Chapter One

It's late. Twenty-two past eleven, to be exact. I'm sitting at my desk, a cup of irished black on my right and entry papers on my right and entry papers on my left. Names passed.

Thomas Curtis.

Avery Duncan.

Lindsey Sturges.

Ashton Mahone.

And finally, Adam Miller.

He wasn't supposed to be in my class. He didn't sign up for it, at least. I set the paper aside before taking another look at the paper.

"Adam."

That too sweet sounding voice ran its sound through my head. It was nothing, just a coincidence. I'd given that practice up. Still, I couldn't take my eyes off of it and I only now realized that I'd been staring at the paper for the last two minutes because it is now eleven-twenty-four and my contacts have now dried out.

What am I still doing here?

My shift was over, I've gone through the rest of the papers-twice now.

I sighed, rubbing a hand over my face and got up out of my desk and going to the back room of my lecture hall. It was place I had to be able to sleep without having to drive anywhere late at night.

There was a knock on my door. Nothing too startling, just a light rapping on the door.

"Come in." I mumbled.

"Hi professor Upshur."

It was a girl no older than the age of eighteen.

"Yes?" I asked, putting the entrance papers in a file and holding the accidental paper.

"My dad was wondering why you were still here."

"Just got my paper's finished. I was going to go in my back room and sleep."

She nodded, "I've never seen someone sleep in their backroom before."

I shrugged, "It's not much. Now, if you don't mind, I have a class to teach tomorrow."

"Oh, uhm, okay. Goodnight, Mr. Upshur."

She walked out and closed the door.

I woke up with a start. My phone was going off with emails and texts, something I should be used to, but still wasn't.
I checked it. The digital clock read eight-fifty a.m. I had an hour and forty minutes until my students came in. An hour and forty minutes until I'd figure out who I liked and who I loathed.
The latter wasn't hard to make a reality, as I generally disliked most people.
The human population was a disease that still continued to spread. No one ever took notice of its true reality besides the... characters locked in a mental ward and me. It was pitiful they had to be put down. They were such good candidates for the upbringing of a worldly revolution; a godly one.
Though I don't believe in God. I believe that one has the power to become a god of His own once He successfully reaches the ultimate power of humanity. I lack doubt that the Great Ante Pavelic or King Hitler would have special places for the deeds they did.
Perhaps not Hitler. There is no room in The Great Departure for cowards. Cowardice might as well be a plague too. How are you to be a god if you can't do your fucking job because you were too scared of death from others that you greeted it with open arms when it came from your own hands?
While I do believe the population is utterly revolting and that no one deserves the joy of living on this earth, there is room for innocence. That is, the purest thing of it. In the Christian bible, God had made Adam and Eve; the most innocent beings this world has known. They could walk together and lack idea of what could go wrong. I love how easily innocence can be swayed.
I was never fond of Eve, however. She was a stupid bitch who fucked the world.
Some call me misogynistic. I call myself reasonable. Now, when females are still small and fragile, that is when they are the best, but still, I love males more so. If I'm desperate, yes. Little girls can be used as little boys, after all.

There was a knock on my door. With a quiet "come in", I allowed the person to greet my presence as I sat at my desk.
It was a male student, I could tell from the corner of my eye.
"Class doesn't start until nine-thirty." I sighed, not looking up at the boy.
"I know. I was placed here on accident. The Dean was wanting me to get my entrance papers from you, if that's alright."
I looked up at him.
Sunken brown eyes, shaggy, dirty blond hair, fragile, and slim hands, a scar on his eyebrow where hair would never grow...
My throat was dry when I asked him his name.

"Adam."