Miscreants: Next Generation

no big deal. The truth was that I fucking hated how weak I was. I’d already known something was wrong with me. From the time I was born until my parents got a proper diagnosis, I fought to survive. I was the boy in a bubble.
As I got older, I made a vow to myself that I would become someone no one could ever look down on. I requested that me being cured remained a secret from everyone but those who absolutely needed to know otherwise. My next step was denouncing and distancing myself from the pathetic little boy I had once been.
I chose to grow in solitude. I isolated myself. Every move was made in the shadows. I retained all the knowledge of the Savages as was expected of me—I overachieved.
When it came time to test if I had the drive to kill, it was discovered I had a thirst for blood and a penchant for torture. Standing over someone while holding the fragile thread of their life in your hands was an invigorating feeling.
I had no fucking idea what or who I was becoming. As word eventually got out that I wasn’t as bedridden as people believed, the results spoke for themselves.
I went from disgrace to demon.
Pity became endless praise.
Suddenly I was a monster with no emotion or remorse. Funny how that worked. I didn’t recall meeting any of these people, and very few knew me.
At this point, as fucked up as it may seem, I no longer gave a shit how they viewed me. I didn’t feel like I belonged here, anyway.
Everything would change soon enough.
Finding the cabin I was looking for, I stopped and listened to make sure no one was around. My uncle had my parents tied up for the time being, and the acolytes had just passed by on their patrol. That left me fifteen minutes to get in and out before they circled back.
I needed less than ten.
Francis’ false sense of security made entering the cabin as easy as entering my own home. I walked in and used my boot to shut the door he hadn’t bothered locking.
He was standing at his dresser. Hearing me enter, he immediately turned around. I didn’t give him time to react. The razor-sharp steel of a five-inch reaper blade split open his neck. It cut through his flesh with no resistance. His blue eyes went round with shock. A steady stream of crimson came from the slit, the ebb and flow quicker due to how erratically his heart was beating, killing him faster.
I kept his body half bent backward over his dresser with a hand clamped firmly over his mouth. When he began to sink down, I went with him, holding my position. It was like watching a silent theatre show.
Now that I knew he wouldn’t be calling out or going anywhere, I began the removal of his lips and tongue.
It didn’t make a difference if he did or not, but I wondered if he knew why this was happening to him. Did he know he’d touched something that belonged to me? Of all the rumors these pieces of shit spread about who I was, that was one I could confirm was a fact. Lilith was mine—and I meant that in the most possessive way possible.
Francis’ muffled groans of pain didn’t faze me. I used the tip of the reaper to make a tear on the left side of his mouth, and then I began to pull. The texture of the lips felt odd as they separated from their place on his face.
To remove them fully, I had to use the reaper the entire time.
When I was finished, I tucked Francis into bed and left his lips on the dresser. I should’ve cut off his dick. I could have taken his eyes, too.
But he was dead now, so there wouldn’t be any immediate gratification. My talents would be wasted.
I washed my knife and hands in his bathroom sink, wiping it down once they were clean. It wasn’t polite to visit someone and then leave a mess. My mother taught me that. I left everything else as it was.
There wasn’t a speck of blood on my boots when I exited the room.

CHAPTER THREE
Four years prior
It was all anyone could talk about.
One Savage being killed by another wasn’t groundbreaking news. This faction was full of vicious men and women that had deficient moral compasses. However, it did always result in the killer being exterminated. Just because it had happened, didn’t mean it was allowed. The Savages were big on loyalty and unity. We were supposed to protect one another.
So, I was a little surprised Francis’ mom was really the only one having an emotional reaction over his death. Most of our peers were morbidly curious, and Romero wasn’t as concerned as I thought he would be. Neither was my dad. Then again, they weren’t ones to show much emotion in the first place.
“Lilith?”
I stopped and turned around. Jonah, one of my peers, was striding towards me. Damn. I was literally a few feet away from the walkway that led to Samael’s front door. I’d had to hurry here before Bella so I could talk to him alone. I found it too coincidental that Francis had turned up dead with his lips missing the day after I told Samael what happened.
“Hey, what’s up?”
“I didn’t get a chance to talk to you before. Are you okay?”
Hm. I could see it now, the reason Bella found him cute. He had dirty blonde hair and eyes a mix of hazel and brown. He was in the upperclassmen for acolytes; you could tell he kept himself in good shape.
But what does he mean?
“Did something…you mean about Francis? I’m fine.”
“Not that. He deserved what he had coming.