Dissecting The Reaper

Chapter 3

Ahh, Little Death the Kid. The trait in him I admire most, which feels closest to my heart, is the one I will use to completely break him. His Obsessive nature; such a simple thing. So easily manipulated used to excrete positive results in favour of my little plan.

I'm going to use his OCD to make him all mine. How, you ask? How can such a thing happen? What plan can I possibly come up with to mold this over-independence into reliance? I drop my cigarette onto the concrete floor and dejectedly stamp it out with the toe of my thin, fraying shoes. Staring at the blood dripping from the mouth of the moon, pouring from between its teeth; I know. I know I've beaten him.

I stay up all night fashioning my design. It's a pen, as it's known the pen is the mightiest weapon, more powerful than the sword hehehe. Or in this case the mind. The pen is relatively normal looking dip pen at first glance, one that most students would possess but aside from the proper metal point which can be dipped into ink and written with, attached to the edge of the convex where the plastic pulls into the metal, is a tiny opening, one which would be called a flaw if being placed accidentally. In truth the pen will need to be dipped in ink to write with. But I have also filled around the metal with ink to stew before screwing on the canister. The ink will somewhat thicken by 0.07% overnight. This will allow my plan to come into motion.

Preferably I'd like to build a second pen, a prototype and test it myself; presumably to see if it works, but secretly I like experimenting with my untested inventions myself before letting others' disgusting, unskilled hands anywhere near them as it may show flows in the designs that can be adjusted for future use on that person.
As the sun is beginning to rise, and I don't have much time to come up with an excuse to make Kid use the pen, so I rush to the school early to come with stage

2. 5 hours Later.

"SURPRISE TEST TIME!" I announce loudly as I sit In My backwards-facing them, arms raised to the heavens. I'm grinning wildly. Each student groans and shifts, slight worry filling their eyes coupled with mild annoyance. I really like that facial expression. I wonder which muscles their using. Imagine them tightening. Initially I am intrigued. But then I look at Kid and see something much more enthralling. Complete. Utter. Indifference. I'm going to have so much fun making him care! Inducing such a strong reaction from him as I watch him explode in a crescendo of neurotically fueled passion! .... I somewhat wish he'd unleash such a thing upon me... "And giving last time Black Star cheated on his last test, I'm going to take some precautions," my glasses flash and everyone becomes uneasy. I make a sweet, charming smile. "Don't worry, I just have to hand out regulation pens," they all breathe a sigh of relief, and it seems even Kid catches the attention. His apathy is merely a front; that's my new hypothesis.

I hand him out the pen I made last night. Everyone else just gets an ordinary one. I was right. He's so self-absorbed he doesn't even notice he's the only one with a special pen. His father certainly dies spoil him. I sit back and allow myself a sip of o tea at my desk, preparing for the greatest show ever to commence. He rubs his pen along the paper and notices it immediately. The ink has smudged all over the edge of the 'D' as he starts to write his name. I see him wince and his hands shake, trying to keep his composure. His teeth grits against each other, and so do mine in pure joy. He takes a calming breath and tries again. The ink deposit I left inside the ridge is seeping into his paper ensuring it smudges.

His pupils constrict, his entire body quivering. I can practically hear the screaming in his head, self-doubt creeping through his frail body. He's breaking. I can see huge smudge blots on the paper, black ink becoming red blood in my mind. He covers his head in his shaking hands, mouth opening wide and screeching through the class, voice ringing loudly around the glass-paneled room. I quickly intervene, rushing to his desk, I'd shocked students if I were to grab the gaunt teenager, instead I poke his shoulder to get his attention but nothing happens. "It's okay, Kid. Let's go to the nurse's office and I'll help you". so i haul him over my shoulder and walk towards the door. "Everyone er...continue!" I must pretend like I care a little bit, right? once out the class I race towards my office hoping that no one sees me with deaths son like this.  Once the heavy door of my office is safely banged closed behind us I dump the still screaming teen onto the floor. He stops screaming as his body makes contact. His eyes remain wide and searching. He looks up at me as tears prick at the edges of his cheeks. "Such mess...so so bad ...messy..." I kneel on the floor beside him. I take in the details of his beautiful face which I haven't been able to see up close yet. Boldly I reach out and cares his soft cheek, an action which causes him to plunge over the edge and a tear to trickle into my palm. Normally I'd be disgusted by such an emotional display. But this just shows how well my plan worked. The tear is a trophy, a testimony to my genius. "Keep still, Kid," I say gently, pulling his head into my chest. My lab coat seems to wrap around both of us, entangling us in its stitched web. "It's horrible, isn't it? Something so messy..." actually I don't mind mess. He sniffles. "You-You're the only one w-who understands me Sir..." "You can call stein, if you like," I coax in a silken voice. This display of kindness and apparent understanding makes him break down further, just sobbing with his hair disheveled against my shoulder. I have my experiment. He's mine.

Now the real fun begins.