Chapter 3: I Want It All

"The black wolf's curse awakes every time that a full moon points in the middle of the sky."

~Pet Torres

Titus

I take a drag from my cigarette balanced perfectly between my fingers. I exhale, and plumes of smoke block my periphery for a moment. I watch as the grey wisps taint the air, muddling it with their cool tone. The plumes dance around one another as if taking apart in some dance, only for the music to stop seconds later. The wisps separate and the air is clear. I can see again.

I use my eyes to scan the crowd of students entering the school building, from my secluded position behind the school where I conduct some of my business. I watch as some enter the school with clear ambition—ready for the start of a new day, excited for the challenge of absorbing new information. Others aren't so persistent, walking into the building with slouched shoulders and eyes fixated on the ground—desperately waiting for the school day to end. Where do I fall into this one may ask? Well, I believe education is important. You need smarts if you're like me and are going to run a successful business and make a name for yourself one day. The world has no room for stupid people. They always end up at the bottom. Me? I want to be on top.

I take a moment to appreciate my surroundings. I like it because I can see everything, yet no one can see me. It is also the only place around the perimeter of the school with no cameras. One object that always catches my attention is the golden lion statue that stands in the middle of the courtyard, sun catching it in all the right spots—as moonlight does on the surface of a calm lake at night. The Silverstorm Lions. Apparently there's a legend that explains how the school acquired its name but I've never cared enough to find out.

Anyways, the animal serves as an emblem of all the school supposedly represents—strength, courage, and pride. None of which our student body exemplifies in my opinion. I've never met one person here I genuinely like. But perhaps that's due to my resistance to want to associate with any of them.

I inhale the smoke and enjoy the warmth it fills me with— the complete serenity while subconsciously enjoying the ritualistic motions my hand makes. I notice a "No Smoking" sign by the side of the school, that gets obscured as I release a puff of smoke, swirls of grey mixing with the air again. I go through almost a pack a day, sometimes more of these "cancer sticks." I'm not addicted, but I'd hate to go a day without them. They keep me calm—tame me. Especially when my anger gets to be too much.

I take a few more drags, wanting to appreciate the time I have by myself before entering the wretched school building. Full of people who I would gladly see go fuck themselves, but who also made great gullible customers. I tap the ashes away watching the flakes fall on to the ground like rain, tainting the grass. I then step on the dying embers with my black Doctor Martens and head towards the school with a sigh and shake of my head.

As I walk through the shiny halls, I can't help but notice how my presence grabs everyones attention. I secretly enjoy it, but loath it at the same time. Guys toss respectful nods my way, as if they know me. They wish! I ignore them entirely, denying them any chance of thinking there is a possibility of becoming friends.

Girls all around me twirl their hair. Batting their eyelashes to get me to notice them, and biting their lips to draw me in. I repress an eye roll that's dying to come out, instead sending them a wink that almost sends half of them to their knees. I chuckle to myself, loving the effect I have on them. Little did they know I play for both teams actually. Don't stick me with any labels though, the only one I want is "billionaire" in all golden letters.

I arrive at my locker, turning the dial until the right mechanisms click into place, and the piece of hunky metal opens for me. I grab a random textbook to use as a pillow, considering I would use the next few periods to catch up on sleep. I wonder how the teachers would react if I brought a real pillow to class, I've been tempted many times, but always decide against it.

The locker suddenly slams shut, by the hand of a random girl who appears next to me all of a sudden. She's wearing a pair of green disco pants with sequins running down the sides, which automatically tells me by her unique sense of style that she probably doesn't give a fuck about anybody's opinion. By her direct eye contact and hand on her hip I can also tell she is an insistent person that likes to be in control. Well, I guess that's one thing we already have in common.

I cross my arms against my chest and raise my eyebrows urging her to tell me the reason she is bothering me. Either that, or I tell her off for wasting my precious time. She doesn't look like any of my usual customers, but in this line of business you learn not to assume anything. People always want something from me. Whether that be sex, good grades, or smart advice. Sometimes I provide, but only if it benefits me. And always for the right price.

"I heard you sell something I'm looking for." Ah, so she's heard of my business, or rather my dealings since I have multiple. She'd have to be more specific, because I have just about what anybody needs. Or if I don't have it, I definitely know someone who does.

"You'll need to be a little more specific sweetie." I respond, my voice sweet and silvery, contrasting from its usual huskiness as I ridicule her with the pet name, because I know it will bother her. I can read people like books. I can form chapters with one scan of my eyes, and still have tons more to report after. Nobody can lie to me, or keep anything from me. Absolutely no one. At least, anybody I've met.

She grits her teeth, and I can see by the way she looks down momentarily that's she's debating whether or not to hit me right now. She decides against it, as she takes a deep breath, focusing her eyes on me once again. "I have an essay due tommorow, and I totally forgot about it. I heard you can get me one." She said, her tone matter-of-fact and her eyes locking with mine.

I suppress a chuckle from leaving my lips. So the big tough lady needs something from me. I want to call her out so badly on looking at me so condescendingly earlier, but I can't resist getting paid. After all, money is the key to success in the world. You have money, you have power. When you have power, no one even thinks of messing with you. To have all that power, means to always be in control.

So I won't stop until I have it all.

"Maybe I can." I shrug my shoulders, and lean against the lockers. I look straight into her eyes, and toss her a smirk, a signature feature of mine. "That depends on how much you're willing to pay."

"How much do you want?" She asks, her confidence waning. Huh, she must really need that paper if she's getting all nervous. I smile to myself, feeling immense satisfaction knowing that I'm the only one that can help her.

"Well..." I draw out, trying to annoy her some more. "You did come to me the day before you need it, so I'm obviously going to have to bump up the price for that. But I'm sure you understand that, right?" I jerk my bottom lip out and look down at her, feigning innocence which I can tell is killing her.

"Yes, of course." She says through clenched teeth. Looking everywhere but my eyes. I wonder why that is, considering I've been told that my eyes were directly sent from heaven. As is the rest of me, I am quite handsome. At least that's what I've been told by all the guys and girls I've slept with. But who would I be to disagree with them?

I give her a big smile, teeth showing and all and say, "Great. That will be fifty dollars."

Her mouth opens wide in shock, eyebrows creasing together in frustration. "Fifty dollars for a paper? Screw that, I'll write it myself." She huffs, glaring at me. If she thought that look would scare me she should think again, I've given and taken worse.

I roll my eyes in amusement. I've seen this move all the time. Clients pretending they'll get the product somewhere else, to try and get you to lower the price when in reality—you're their only option. So naturally, I play along. "Okay then, have fun getting a D. And not the good kind."

I smirk to myself, turning to walk away, back facing her, before she yells after me to wait. I smile to myself, eyes glinting with satisfaction. More money and more victory. I turn around, lips twitching upward into another smirk.

"Wait, fine, I'll give you the money as long as you promise me it'll be an A." I almost scoff at her in disbelief, since I've never had an unsatisfied customer, and if I have it was some other idiot who messed it up.

"I guarantee you that it will and I've only had satisfied customers. I'll need that money by the end of the school day by the way." I add.

"But I'll have to go home and get it. I don't have that kind of cash on me right now." She looks at me frantically, eyes begging me for an extension. Not happening. One rule in business—never settle.

I start to walk away, but not before replying over my shoulder, "Not my problem. This is why we don't leave things until the last minute, sweetie." I hear an angry huff as she stomps away, and I walk the other way, excited for my future nap and the money that will fill my pockets by the end of the day.

***

"Mr. King wake up this instant!" A voice shouts from across the room, waking me up from my slumber—a very good one actually. I blink a couple of times trying to clear away the fogginess in my brain, and trying to cut away the rope that keeps trying to pull me back to the comfortable state I was in mere seconds ago.

I yawn, not bothering to cover my mouth with my hand which only annoys Ms. Kreacher, or is it Kraken, more. I didn't bother to learn her name in the beginning of the year and I sure wasn't going to start now. I lift my head from the desk, and give her a bored expression. "Is there a reason you woke me up from a rewarding nap? Please don't tell me it was because of your dreary ass lesson." Muffled snickers arose from my classmates, as I could practically picture the steam coming from out of the teacher's ears.

"You can sleep all you want in detention." She retorted, crossing her arms in satisfaction—basking in my "defeat."

"At least then I'll finally have some peace and quiet." I shoot back. She looks like she wants to hit me with the ruler she's holding, not in a good way, but decides against it. Hmm, she doesn't seem like the kinky type, but who knows?

I give her a scowl, as she continues teaching the class about polar coordinates or some shit like that. I find some aspects of math helpful, but tell me when I'll ever need to calculate the theta of a circle in real life? "Since you want to be a smart ass, what's the answer to number 3, Titus?"

I turn my attention to the blackboard she is gesturing at. The gears in my head only have to turn for a few seconds before I solve the problem. The answer is (5, 167°). Instead of giving her the correct answer though, I roll my eyes and rest my chin on the back of my hand. It would feel good to see her shocked expression, as I prove I am smarter than she or anyone else thinks I am. Better to surprise them later.

Suddenly, a girl raises her hand way too eagerly. Lana Wang, everyone in the class knows her to be a teacher's pet. She is always answering questions, and correcting everyone's mistakes, without them asking. The teacher picks on her with a great, big smile that she has never once given me. "The answer is (5, 167°)." She answers sweetly, before sitting back down, and smiling to herself.

"That's correct. Mr. King you could stand to learn a thing or two from Ms. Wang over here. Well done, once again Lana." Ms. Creature says, before returning to the blackboard and teaching once again. Lana turns to me and gives me a smirk over her shoulder, with a wild glint in her eyes. If I wasn't so good at covering up my emotions I would have opened my mouth in shock. She smirked at me. No one does that to me. Ever. At least not in that way.

Looking away abruptly, my eyes scan across the classroom searching for a distraction, until they land on a guy who is drawing next to me. He has grayish silver hair which I think actually looks pretty cool as the strands dip into his eyes as he leans over in his seat. He has on a baggy dark blue sweatshirt, despite it being pretty warm out. But I'm wearing a leather jacket, so I can't judge. His icy blue eyes are so focused and calculated as he shades in the drawing with the various pencils lining his desk, all different in ways I can't contemplate.

The drawing is of a wolf next to the sea. The waves look like they are crashing against one another and the sky is clear with the moon drawn quite big—but not too large to look disproportionate. The wolf is in mid-howl I presume with the way its head is tilted towards the night sky. It is really good, and I am impressed. That's not something that happens often. I am particularly drawn to this image for some reason, and by the looks of it the boy is too as his eyebrows arch in concentration and his pencil floats across the page.

"Nice drawing." I say to him, nodding my head towards the sketch book perched on his lap. He looks towards me with a confused look in his eyes before searching my face for any sign of a joke. When he sees that I am in fact telling the truth, a small smile graces his face.

"Thanks." He says timidly before turning his attention back to the paper. There is something alluring about the drawing that I can't quite put my finger on. There is something alluring about him too.

***

The final bell rings, and I sigh in content. This day felt longer than usual, but then again that's how school always feels. I slam my locker shut, ready to leave the school and jump into the comfortable bed in my apartment currently waiting for me.

Like earlier this morning, the closed locker door reveals the weird girl with the strange fashion sense. Why she chooses to appear this way, I will never understand. She doesn't utter a word to me as she stuffs the fifty dollar bill into my hand, mouth twisted into a snarl. Huh, I must have made quite the impression on her. I chuckle to myself.

She recoils quickly, looking at me in disgust. "I was wondering when I'd see those contacts all the girls talk about. You know, those colored contacts don't make you look cool. They make you look dumber than you already are."

"Contacts? Sweetie, these eyes are all natural." Maybe she is high on something, because I know I was born with amber eyes. Thank you very much.

"Whatever." She says, giving me another weird expression, before striding away head held up high.

Like I said earlier, all the people in this school are full of weird. It's a miracle I haven't caught the crazy going around. I walk away in the other direction towards a classroom in the back of the school where my nerds are waiting for me. Time to put in the essay order. What? You thought I wrote the essays myself? I'm smart, but not that smart.

***

I step out of the steel elevator, doors opening to reveal my apartment. It isn't penthouse big, but it is pretty large and modern. I step onto the dark grey furnished wood floor as my eyes sweep over the place I call home. The entire place radiated mixtures of red, black, and grey. The ambience very sultry and dark. The curtains on the big windows are opened just a little to let just enough sunlight in but not too much to drown the place in its brightness. The dark tones are attractive to me which is why I chose to decorate it like this—it is my personal haven. Without bothering to kick off my boots, I fall on the dark red couch with a sigh, closing my eyes.

It is currently 6PM. After putting in all the essay orders and deadlines, I had met a buddy of mine a few blocks away from the school for a smoke and some business ventures. I'm about to get into another business real soon—it's a little dangerous but I'm aware of the risks and think the benefits will ultimately outweigh the bad.

One may wonder how I even got this apartment in the first place. I'm almost seventeen, which is the age most landlords agree is the minimum age to rent an apartment in New York. Like I said, I know people, who know people, who know people. To sum it up, I pulled a lot of strings to get here. But I needed my own space, plus I pay for rent myself, and that in itself isn't cheap. But less than two months from now, I won't have to worry about getting caught.

Just then there is a knock on my door. I run a hand down my face, wondering why I can't have a second of peace and quiet. I get up, rather sluggishly, and drag my feet towards the door—the sound of my boots stomping across the floor following me. I look through the glass peephole to see who it is, relaxing slightly when I see it is just the nice maid—Nancy.

I open the door swiftly, plastering a nice smile on to my face—a genuine one this time. Nancy knows about my little secret, and promised to keep it to herself. She doesn't know the full reasons behind me living here, but I think a small part of her does. She's sort of like a second mom to me in a way, and I cherish her presence so much.

"Good evening Titus, Mrs. Silo would like to see you in the lobby. She said it was urgent." Before I can step in to the hallway, she uses a gentle hand to stop me. "But before you go I want to know, how have you been darling?" She asked, her voice soft like a cozy blanket during a cold winter, and as soothing as my mom's voice when she sung me to sleep when I was little.

I appreciate the gesture, despite me hating to talk about my feelings. Feelings are something to be bottled up, they make one vulnerable, and that's something I left behind a long time ago. "You know, I'm getting by. It was nice to see you again Nancy, say hi to the kids for me." I know she can tell I'm lying, but she lets me through anyways. She gives me a knowing look before stepping to the side to allow me to get through the door, before shutting it behind the both of us.

"I will, take care of yourself Titus." And with that, she pushes her cleaning cart away and down the hall—out of sight. I walk in the other direction towards the elevator so I can take it down to the lobby. I wonder what Mrs. Silo wants.

*******

The lobby is significantly brighter than my apartment. Various paintings line the walls, and a chandelier dangles from the ceiling. The floor is a colorful marble, and the air smells of lavender—not my favorite scent, but not totally unbearable.

I walk over to her office door, and knock twice before crossing my hands across my chest and waiting. The door opens to reveal Mrs. Silo—a woman in her mid-forties who currently wore a deep frown and her arms are also crossed rather tightly. She is angry, and by the way her eyes look, I can tell that anger is directed towards me. I have half a mind to walk away, not wanting to deal with any more crazy women today, but I decide to hear her out. I walk in, and brace myself for an earful.

She closes the door behind me, and gestures towards the chair across her desk. I sit down carefully, but not fully, in case I need to make a quick escape. "What is this about?" I asked, craving a cigarette right about now.

"I know." She said tersely, eyes digging into my mine.

"You know what?" I am tempted at that moment, to retort with a sarcastic comment about how she probably doesn't know anything. But I decide against that, since she is my landlady.

She slams a fist down on the table, and I raise my eyebrows in surprise, not feeling threatened in the slightest. "Don't play dumb with me, dammit. I received some pressing news today in my mailbox. Some news that is quite insightful. So cut the crap, I know you are sixteen, kid."

First, Lana smirked at me, now this? What is with all these surprises? My heart honestly can't take anymore of it. The blood in my veins suddenly turns cold, and I found my heart beating slightly faster than usual. Still, I will not allow myself to lose control.

"I can assure you Mrs. Silo, that I am an adult. I have the ID to prove it." I say, eyes reaching for my wallet with my fake ID inside. But she raises a hand in the air to stop me.

"Stop. I don't want to hear any more lies. I have proof that was sent to me. Proof that I will now hand over to the police, right after I call them." She pulls a file from out of her desk, and places it on the far left of her desk. Out of arms reach. I still will not allow myself to freak out. So I pick the next easiest option—anger.

The ice that encased the blood in my veins a moment ago melts, instead now pumping wildly through my veins—so loudly I can hear it in my ears. My face heats up, and I feel my jaw setting tightly. I grab her wrist in desperation—a little too hard. "You are not going to call the police, you hear me? You are going to destroy any files you have against me, and we're going to pretend this conversation NEVER happened. Okay?"

Expecting her to shout for help, or to tug her arm out of my grip—what she does next shakes me to my core. She nods, as if in a trance. Her eyes are glazed over, and she is smiling at me. Her eyelids are droopy, and her eyes lack all focus. But the way she looks at me—is the most haunting. Full of submission. I quickly let go, and she blinks twice.

"Titus, what are you doing here?" She asked, eyebrows knitting together in confusion. My eyes are wide, and I'm unable to look her in the eye. I can't hide these emotions as my heart threatens to thump out of my chest. She then looks down at the files on her desk. She opens a drawer and takes out a pair of scissors, before grabbing the Manila paper and cutting the file with the information about me into strips which she then sweeps into the garbage. "Just some junk mail, anyways is there anything I can do for you?"

I spring out of my seat, and bolt out of the door, not giving her a response. I want to smoke a whole pack right now, but even that won't be enough to calm me down. My eyes scan the lobby, looking for a distraction, or anything that makes sense. Until they stop at a mirror, hanging below a painting of a meadow. What I see next upturns my whole world, and disrupts any and all balance in my life. Makes me want to sprint out the door and never stop running or lock myself in my room and never come out.

My eyes. They are red.

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What do you think of Titus, and what do his eyes mean? Also, why does he live in his own apartment? Please let me know your thoughts! Also, please like and comment it means the world! Stay golden :) 🖤

~Fallen Rose🥀