My dad had a transfer and we changed cities, and obviously, my school changed too. I had just turned fourteen when I got admission to a new school in the 9th grade.
This time it was a little different. I already knew what I had to do. Thus from the very first day, I started building my image and working on my reputation.
Since this was a new school and no one knew what I was like before—and this time I already had abs and a well-built body—it took me only a month to reach the position I held in my previous school.
I befriended everyone in the class and the grade. I studied my ass off so that I could attain the first position on the very first test, and that did happen. In no time I was the student everyone liked.
Henceforth when I thought I’d built a reasonable amount of reputation I started my entertainment again and searched for new lab rats.
Time repeated itself and I did the exact same things with the rats but with different methods. I got bored very soon—that was a bad habit of mine—so eventually I had to find new ways to entertain myself.
At first, I didn’t know what to do, but after browsing the internet for a few days I got to know about the dark web. It was a dangerous place, but equally fun for a person like myself.
I went there and watched a lot of things which students of my age shouldn’t watch. From there I learned new methods of torture and used them on my rats.
Of course, I had to tone them down to a huge extent so that I could avoid any type of suspicion. For example, if I had to cut a person’s finger in the original form then I had to tone it down and make it up by just crushing the finger with a hammer or something. That way I could say that the said student injured himself while playing or while hammering a nail.
Though when I had to really do something extreme, I made the other student do it—so that my name wouldn’t be stained. I still remember one time when I made a student break another’s arm.
On my orders, he bent the other student’s arm behind his back until it broke and then twisted it around his neck like a scarf. After that, I made him report himself to the school and say that he made a mistake during a fight.
Of course, he was expelled. And the whole school was shocked that a student could do something like this. Some even called him a psychopath.
There was another time when nothing was appealing to my interests. No matter what I did I wasn’t getting that rush of dopamine that I liked so much.
So I decided to take things a little further. I picked a rat who was a hard introvert. He had no friends, people didn’t even notice him in the classroom, and he was also socially awkward henceforth he was marked as a weirdo. Perhaps he was a little mentally unstable too—I am not sure about this but I often heard other students say that.
I had befriended him too, of course. And there was no way that he was going to deny a request from this only friend of his. I knew that and capitalized on it. 𝘧𝓇𝗲𝑒we𝙗noѵ𝑒l.𝐜o𝘮
During recess, I called him on the rooftop. We stood near the railing, looking at the view outside and talking about a few things. He said how he was really grateful to me, and that I was the only person he could share his feelings with.
I acted upon the image I’d built of myself and listened to every bit he had to say. After that I looked at him and smiled, then I pushed him off the roof.
He fell facedown, and his body splattered like a meatball when he hit the ground. By sheer coincidence, he fell upon another student, leaving a great beautiful view for me.
I looked at the scenery as long as I could without being seen by anyone, then I walked back down the roof.
Later on, people suspected that either he fell from the roof by accident or he killed himself. The type of student he was made it easy to believe in either of the outcomes.
And this time I got a bonus when I saw the faces of his parents the time they’d come to take their son back from school. The staff didn’t know how to give them the news, and when they did.
Man, it was a sight. They broke down completely. Even though they were supposed to be adults, they cried and sobbed like kids when they heard that their son was dead. I was watching from a corner, and really enjoyed the look on their faces.
This went on for quite a bit, but this time my dad’s transfer came sooner than expected. I knew I had to leave this school, so I decided to pack things up.
Unlike my previous school, the rats here didn’t try to protest against me. Perhaps they were not foolish and aware of what I was capable of.
Still, I released all the secrets I’d been able to collect in the school group before I left. The same happened with class 9C as had happened with class 8B. The trust between the students completely fell off the cliff.
The class was physiologically destroyed.
I changed schools again but this time it was midterm, I’d left in the middle of the 9th grade. Though that didn’t make much of a difference. I did the same in the new school.
All of this went on as I kept changing schools due to my dad’s transfer. Every time I followed the same procedure, and every time the result was the same. But because of this very reason, I started getting bored of it.
