I froze.
I had never shared a kiss with anyone, yet alone a pretty girl like Elysse who anyone would have kissed back. But I didn’t.
I stood there, locked in a tense stance, as Elysse ran her tongue along my bottom lip.
My eyes locked with Alexander; his lips parted and eyes wide as he stood in the hallway, watching Elysse press her body into mine.
The expression that crossed his face—anger, hurt, something in between—unlocked the chains holding me in place, my body returning to life to push her away.
“What? What’s wrong?” Elysse frowned.
“You…you shouldn’t do that,” I stammered.
“Do what?”
“Kiss people with–without asking!”
“Don't you want to kiss me?”
I shook my head.
“What, are you gay or something?”
Blood ceased running through my veins, all warmth evaporating to leave a cold empty shell of a boy, standing in front of a girl seething with rejection.
“No,” I said, forcing my voice to remain calm, “I just don’t want to kiss you.”
“You’re so gay,” she scoffed, sauntering toward the door.
“I’m not gay!"
“Augustus the Gay,” she laughed, throwing her head back. “Roman Emperor of the Queers!”
Untamed rage possessed my body, an overwhelming tremor that sent my hand toward her neck, slamming her head against the concrete wall with a deafening crunch.
She screamed, blood pouring from the gash on her temple as she crumbled to the floor, blonde hair stained red.
I stood over her sobbing body; leather shoe pressed against her pale throat. Beneath the sole, her pulse fluttered.
“Please,” she whispered.
I pressed my foot down harder, watching the blood vessels in her eyes burst one after the other. She choked, gasping for air, hands clawing uselessly at my feet. Pleasure flooded through me, her struggle placating the anger that soared through my veins. I was in control. She was at my mercy.
Colour fled her warm skin as Death crouched down beside her. She stopped moving, stopped gasping—hands dropping to the concrete floor, eyes vacant.
“Hello?” Elysse waved a hand in front of my face, shaking her head. “Oh my god, you’re gayandcrazy.”
I watched her leave the room, not one drop of blood falling from her flawless skin. She was breathing. She wasalive.
My shoulders sagged in relief.
I was not a monster. I was not the Devil.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“Oh, come on, it’s not that bad,” Ava assured me on our way to our visual arts class. “Augustus the Gay kind of has a nice ring to it.”
I shot her a look. “But I’m not gay.”
