"Alys, wake up."

Something lightly grazed my lower leg, the sensation stirring the darkness within my mind. A small murmur left my mouth as I pushed my face into the pillow. Almost instantly I was back to a sound sleep. Sheets left my body and the cold bite of the air outside settled against my skin.

"Alys..." it was a threatening growl, and my eyes squeezed tightly as I slowly regained consciousness. Apparently, not soon enough.

The pain on my leg made my eyes fly open and I yipped and pulled away immediately. My gaze shot up to find my mother, noting instantly how she crossed her arms over her chest; her own challenging gleam within her eyes.

"Did you just pinch me?" Yet my words weren't really a question, I could still feel the tight sting on my calf as my fingers rubbed the spot firmly.

My mother narrowed her eyes somewhat, auburn hair framing her pretty, cold face. "Oh don't be so dramatic. It was only a light one; nothing worse than what you would do to me when you were an infant."

I thunked my head against the back wall and ran my fingers into my pale blonde hair, letting my palms cover my eyes from the harsh light. I knew she was still hovering. "What time is it?" I asked dryly.

"It's 6:50"

My blue eyes widened as I realized that I had slept in. "What!?" I jumped off my bed and ran past her. I glanced at the blinking of alarm clock that had reset itself in the middle of the night.

"Apparently the power went out," She said mildly as she saw where my eyes had trailed, "It's pathetic that in such a modern day of living, we still have such sorry excuses happen."

"But if you knew about it," I turned to meet those brown eyes, "Why the hell didn't you wake me up sooner?"

"Don't use that language with me." My mother hissed before finding her composure again, "I was watching the news and it didn't cross my mind since I figured your phone was still working."

I held her gaze for only a second longer before I resumed putting on my pants. We both knew I never used my phone to wake me up; I never slept with it near me. I paced to the bathroom fumbling for my tooth brush and looking for a clean shirt amongst the mess, feeling my mother's eyes trace me as I went.

"I encourage you to hurry Alys. You'll still most likely be late, but I don't want you hanging around here anymore than you have to." she said blandly as she began walking away, most likely about to return to her news and some coffee.

"Probably," I replied quietly, knowing how my next words would cause a problem. "And I'll miss my test and receive an F on it for failure to appear. Knowing Mr. Hasten's, I'll also get detention after school so I won't be home on time."

She was already heading out the door, unfazed by my words until the moment I said detention. Now I could feel her eyes on my back. Mrs. Anderson held a book club there in the library after school. I wondered what that woman would think of my presence there.

"Oh well now Alys, we can't let your grades suffer. I'd hate to think of you failing that test." A slight smile tightened my mother's lips, "I'll be in the car, we better hurry". And she turned to leave. I watched her go from under my eyelashes as I finished buttoning my pants. The door sat blank in my eyes as I heard her steps trail down the hall.

"How kind of you to finally give me a ride to school," I whispered.

..

.

My bun was sloppy and it barely controlled the half brushed blonde hair but it was good enough as I watched the cars that we passed.

"You're going to pass that test, right?" she asked.

I glanced to my mother and observed her form. Her lips were covered in a coral pink sheen, and all her makeup was perfectly set against her skin. She looked like the perfect house wife. How disturbingly ironic. My fingers trembled slightly before I pressed them into my leg.

"Yes, I'm sure I will." I replied in the same blank tone.

"Good."

She pulled passed the school parking lot and right up to the entrance so that I could hop out and dart for class. "Study well," my mother recited as she watched me lunge from her car.

"In school? But of course."

She met my eyes again as I turned to shut the door, "Alys, make sure you don't get detention; pass that test and stay out of trouble."

"...of course, mom." I replied finally.

She stared a while longer, as if some old worry was creeping through now that she was forced to face me on state owned grounds again. The consequence, I suppose, of never bringing her daughter to school was that the scene of it made her anxious when finally forced to. "And... behave yourself Alys".

I said nothing as I held her eyes. My mother rectified that unease on her face, her eyes refusing to look at my sketchbook within my side bag. Finally, she smiled and blew me a kiss that we both knew I wouldn't catch. It was an act for others to see, not for me.

I backed away and jogged lightly up the concrete path into the front doors the school. Other students were still wandering the front side walk and I exhaled knowing I would have time to spare. I brushed a stray hair behind my ears as I glanced back to the road where my mother was pulling out. She had a lead foot; especially today.

I finally looked away from her car and stepped through the front doors of my school. Immediately, a crowd halted me as we were all faced with a scene of a student being escorted rather aggressively towards the front office by two frustrated security personnel.

The male student laughed roughly, even a little eccentrically before smiling and turning towards his friends that were watching from afar.

"Don't look so sad boys!" He sang, "The prank must still go on!" Those words got him a rough yank forward.

I stepped around those curious bystanders and weaved myself into the rest of the oblivious crowd. My eyes glanced left, inconspicuously observing those other student's faces. They looked affronted, but determined. Whatever their intended plan was, I doubted the capture of one accomplice would stop the others.

This was the reality of my high school, the senior prank capita of them all. Always in the spotlight for one reason or another; our prestigious sport teams, our yearly senior class games, our unique high grade point average- we always had some type of recognition cast down upon us. Most of us hated it, me included.

Those boys still hung by the halls of the office, warily searching the crowd for anymore security guards who might think better of the first student's call to carry on. By their untrusting gazes as they scanned the other students, I knew they were trying to determine if anyone had realized that potentially dangerous give away. This prank was clearly covert and important. Has anyone realized it was still on? Two eyes intently scanned the crowds before them.

I pivoted on the balls of my feet effortlessly, moving down the halls as nothing more than a shadow lost behind a frenzy of objects. No one's eyes traced me as I went.

.
.

I immersed myself in the chatter of other students like background noise. I wondered what hoax they would pull. Though I was a senior this year as well, these outcries were not my taste for fun. It was interesting to watch them though. The latest and greatest of course was that the school's most hated biology teacher got locked in his classroom with the song, "The bad touch" by the Blood Hound Gang playing relentlessly inside.

I found my eyes straying to a door down the hall. It was now propped open with a heavy-duty trash bin and a red sign threatening anyone who moved it. My eyes traveled away from it and examined the corridor before me. I could see the dozens of posters lining the long halls advertising some prep rally or another one of the school's sport organizations. I realized there were new ones placed upon the stone walls and I peered around to get a better view. I suddenly began to laugh.

We had the true female athletes, the ones that brought us to State. And then we had the eye-candy, the relatively untalented girls that joined and brought us more fans. Regrettably the latter felt they ruled the roost. It was always the running jest around my school; everyone was laughably aware that the most scandalous of our lot had decided to partake in the free fame our sport teams caused.

Unfortunately for our volley ball, swim team, and cheer squad, the skimpy outfits had drawn in more than just the healthily flexible. Amongst those teams were a few attention dependent and gluttonous power-tripping souls.

To be fair, the male teams had to deal with the same ego boosting applicants. But they seemed to be able to whittle away those hindrances a lot easier than the girls.

This marvelous print before me contained almost practically all of those latter girls... in what I was sure was a flattering way. The poster was titled "All working together to conquer the sports!", though a quick inspection revealed it was primary the Cheer Team's print.

Their faces were almost sneering, trying to show their aggression and spirit. But my laughter grew as I looked away from their cheer shorts which was pulled high and tight; their physical lines easily traceable.

The poster beside me was on a random girl's locker. "Slùts," she breathed as she tore it off. And it only made my shoulders tremble more as I sauntered off.

I merged myself through more students and teachers and I tucked back another strand of blonde hair that escaped my bun. I stepped forward to my locker and immediately grasped the cold dial.

"Something funny?"

I glanced to my side to meet her green eyes. My grin widened, "Have you seen the posters?"

Those green eyes widened with recognition, and she rummage through her bag, shoulder length hair falling forward, and pulled out the very paper in question. "They were plastered all over the halls and, especially by the men's bathroom." She chuckled and turned it towards me as I read the permanent marker graffiti that decorated the page. "I couldn't resist," she shrugged innocently with a smile.

"Oh Karri," I tssked eyeing the picture in front of me, "'For Sale: cats in heat. Please call if interested, 1-800-255-6848.'"

She giggled, and shook the paper enticingly towards me, "You like?"

"Very much so," I laughed. I looked back at the number felt its familiarity to a sex-ed class I had a few years back. "Karri, is that the STD hotline?"

Big doe eyes were all that met me. I could not stop laughing and had to lean against the locker.

"What!" she breathed between her own uncontrollable laughter, pushing away the sandy tresses from her eyes, "It's 'for more information'! Any good salesman always has the manual with the product!"

"Manual? Or warning label?"

"Both." she grinned brightly.

The caution bell rang and my chuckles slowly subsided as I wiped a tear. "God you crack me up," I laughed breathlessly. I reached into my locker and pulled away my binders for my math test.

She eyed my math binder and her eyes lit up. "Oh goodie- Mr. Hasten's Hitler test." She winked at me now, "Always a favorite."

I rolled my eyes at her. She smiled though and finished shutting her locker. "Have fun," she said, as she held up her marker, "I know I've still got some doodling to do! I think I'll frame this in my room when I'm done." She winked sassily at me.

I laughed again before we turned and walked away from each other to our next class. I grinned a bit wider as I thought of her poster graffiti. Karri was my best friend. And my only friend. I gave other people a small time of day when they approached me but otherwise, it was pretty apparent that I had social issues.

Karri had once said I should be more understanding and tolerant of people, but alas my eyes always lost focused on their jokes and phony stories. In the end, I would always end up spacing off into the distance. Attractively- I decided- as I pictured how mentally challenged I must look while watching a wall.

I glanced down at my binder, throwing away a random piece of paper on my way by a trash can. My eyes caught onto another poster that hung above the bin. I smiled knowing Karri was having fun with hers at the moment. I didn't doubt she would frame and hang it in her room when she was done.

I stared into the eyes of those females plastered to the wall. I didn't feel bad for them for what Karri had drawn. I couldn't help but to narrow my eyes at their smiling faces; the ones whom stood on the forefront were also the ones responsible for last year's prank gone wrong.

Shannon and Ashley were juniors along with Karri and I. A male senior had spray-painted dicks throughout the school halls and walls, and he was almost caught for all the damage that he had done. The cost for the property damage was roughly a thousand dollars, though to be fair I assumed a little was added on extra for profit.

And he was almost caught. That is until those before me in this poster had convinced and accused an unsuspecting student to take the fall. When the kid finally realized at what extent he was being used for, he tried to back out. But it was too late- he had been expelled, and though everyone found out it was really someone else, no one seemed to care.

And those innocent smiles, soft giggles, and those shushing mouths had executed that cover up. I still remember rounding a corner in time to see Ashely's hands slipping away from the pants of the senior in question; her lips pursed as I caught the slight last bit of words, "Shhhh... it's okay, I will take care of it."

My hand tightened on the rim of the trash bin as I broke away from the memory.

I truly hated people; people who abused others, people who cared none about the lives that they ruined.

I grabbed the poster and tossed it into the trash as I walked away. Only the tape was a reminder of what was once there.

I entered Mr. Hasten's room quietly and walked past most of the basketball team who by horrible chance had been assigned to my math room. Maybe we were all as dumb as a brick. Karri had voted we all hold hands and sing Kumbaya to unite our powers. Somehow, I didn't feel the same.

I found my way to the back of the class, just in time to hear the tardy bell ring and announce me safe. I glided around people, making sure neither I nor my notebook touched them, and into my desk that awaited me patiently.

"Alright class," Mr. Hastens breathed, "I hope you all studied and brought your equation guidelines with you because it's time for the test."

People moaned and I slipped free a card from the inner wall of my binder. Our teacher walked to his desk and grabbed a stack of papers, before slowly handing it out to all the students of the class.

I became aware of his shadow over my desk and I turned to look up at him. "Just a note card?" he questioned with a raised eyebrow, though he did look at my drawing book in hopes that of the 15 intricate equations, I wouldn't be fool enough to only prepare for some.

"No," I replied, "Just this." I positioned the small paper more evenly. I didn't need anything more than what I had; small writing and a creative mind usually allowed odd ways of remembering things. He blankly handed me my test and walked away in what I could only assume was his reply. I sighed and looked down at my paper.

I read through the questions blankly to pre-evaluate the problems. Math was definitely far from my favorite subject, and so I looked sideways at my sketchbook longingly.

I heard some small chuckling and I gazed blankly from under my eyelashes to the guys in front of me as they whispered, "And then I told her that I wasn't, and after a few promises she believed me."

Their laughs were quiet but Mr. Hastens must have looked around the room suspiciously because the noise faded to almost nothing. But it only lasted a second.

"But hey man, what are you going to tell her sister? The same thing?"

They started laughing again and my hand tightened slightly on my pencil. I closed my eyes firmly before opening them again and glancing back down to the test. Slowly I drew out the equations and answered the questions below me. I blankly drew a chart, just as the girl to the left anxiously looked around the spots next to her; eyes hell bent on trying to see someone else's answers.

I could practically smell her sweat as she desperately leaned towards me; then to others of the room. Finally, the person in front of her seemed to allow enough room to see, and she scribbled hastily to catch up.

My heart was slow and firm as I focused on my test and only that. I ignored the whispers that seemed to roar in my ears; the girl's harsh swallows as she fought for a better view, the teacher's fingers drumming as he watched his students with resentment; something inside of him wanting them to fail. I ignored them all. The answers soon slid by, and I fell into some peace as I found a rhythm to contort to.

And that's when I heard the door open.

.

.

.

The class felt different- like a foreign energy had entered the room and the hairs on my arms and neck rose slightly in response to the movement; for I knew who it was. I swallowed dryly against the immediate disgust I felt whenever I had to share the same air as him. And here I thought he was skipping again.

"You're late Hayden." Mr. Hastens growled from his spot in the corner of the room. My jaw ground a little tighter as I tried to ignore the noises and resumed my test.

"Oh, I'm not, Mr. Hastens. Another staff member has issued an excuse for me." The class giggled as the deep voice prodded lightly on tense air. Everyone knew you never talked back to Mr. Hastens. Our teacher was not known for his tolerance or patience. Especially if you wanted your grade to survive.

"There's no excuse! You know the rules for this class, if you miss a test you FAIL the test. The tardy bell rang five minutes ago and I've already passed them out. So guess what? You've failed."

"You've yet to even ask why I am late." A dry, sardonic voice mocked, "I already told, I have a valid excuse from another staff member."

I could only imagine my teacher twitching at the words and his veins rising to his reddened forehead. I let go of my pencil and I rubbed my temples firmly. There were a couple of gasps and inhales from whatever the class saw before them. And then they all started laughing or chuckling again.

There it was.

That distinct sound of my peer's pathetic minds; the wretched chime of them worshiping the ground that man walked on. And his voice seemed to tumble over my thoughts and break the rhythm of my sanity.

I wanted my escape... I grabbed my sketchbook and flipped it open. I knew Mr. Hasten's would fail me in an instant if he saw this- but he was distracted and my hands craved the paper. An image of an old drawing presented itself, half finished, yet still extensively drawn. My pencil rose against the paper as my pencil lead dragged its point through the white surface. An instant wave of release ran through my veins.

"There's no valid excuse! You're late- that's that. You've failed this test by not showing up when it's your responsibility to be here on time. And you weren't! I don't give a damn what another staff member says!" Our teacher's angry voice shook through the air.

"Aw, is that so. Then I'll turn around and talk with Mr. Rodriguez again." The class grew silent as he mentioned our vice principal's name, "After all, it was he who excused me."

There was silence in the wake of Hayden's words. I finally heard Mr. Hastens' voice mumble in the air, trying to understand what he had heard. The insect had been caught in the web. "Mr. Rodriguez?"

"Yes." The other male answered, "He saw me helping a teacher today and he personally gave me an allowed excuse for being tardy. But I'll let him know you won't accept it.

"No, no. You're fine!" Mr. Hastens said a little too urgent. Mr. Rodriguez had already been scrutinizing Mr. Hastens for the amount of complaints he's received for his harsh teaching ethics. I knew this because the front office let that babble slip during one of their gossip huddles. They seemed to have forgotten I was around the corner submitting my form for a graduation gown.

Mr. Hastens began scribbling something onto the papers on his desk, all the while whispers and mirth hummed in the back air. I wondered if any of Hayden's story had even happened. I wondered, if in reality, that same front office gossip had reached his ears as well. He had guessed too easily how to get out of his test. But, of course, who would ever question the creature before me?

I almost smiled. Hayden would never just randomly help a teacher.

If only they knew... If only they had an inkling of the truth.

Hayden laughed now, and though most people would assume he was living in the moment and having fun... I could hear it.

I could hear his disgust for everyone before him... his hatred and repulsion. He was laughing at them, all of them. But so well masked, so gentle enough... that those smiling faces in his shadow did nothing but laugh along.

If only they knew...

The boy who was loved and admired by everybody.

The monster who secretly hated them all.

But they didn't know. None of them had any idea that their most beloved, popular, and heroic figure watched them all beneath malicious eyes. They didn't the other students who had left this school because of him, the coaches and councilors whose careers he had destroyed. They knew none. And so they worshiped him.

That was the difference between Hayden and I; two people deeply aware of the mentality of those around us. I drew those around me, drew their secrets and true selves whenever I got a glimpse of it; though no one would ever see that art. Hayden, on the other hand, lived for chaos, hidden behind a cloak of popularity. He wanted those he despised to burn and he was more than willing to set fire to a stage he helped create.

I tried to focus on the paper below me, but something inside of my hands seemed to tremor slightly. I despised him with every fiber in my being, Finally, I glanced up and looked at that man who was the fakest of them all.

Most girls would have swooned at the sight of him. Certainly, anyone meeting him for the first time would have been stunned and left speechless at the sight of him hovering above them; his eyes a steady gaze. Even the other guys of the school still longed to act like him.

He was tall, elegant, had strong features and light brown hair. The sports he partook in left him with small scars and abrasions on his hands and knuckles, but also a predator's body; deceivingly strong and lean. I knew calling him that was far fetched in words, yet I couldn't unsee the hunger behind his eyes. Hunger for chaos, hunger for manipulation, hunger for... something.

But I was the only one who could see that. Hayden wore a well-crafted lie; a sharp illusion set against grinning white teeth and emotionless eyes. We were nothing more than dumb sheep to him; his gaze always watching patiently on the people in front of him. But the hunger was always there. The hatred. If you annoyed this man... he would not hesitate to destroy you.

Maybe if I wasn't so screwed up myself I might have even fallen for his deep laugh- though his eyes never seemed to catch the emotion. But I knew better than that. Steel voided eyes betrayed a wide smile underneath; words spoke something so false that it made me wonder if I really wanted to know what the truth was.

My hand tightened around the pencil even more. Look at him. He may be handsome... he may be smart... but he knew what he was doing. He knew the chaos he created; the disorder, the discord... and he loved every second of it. He was different from other people... he was undecidedly psychopathic. He was a manipulator, an aggressor, and no one even knew it.

I watched while he gazed with mocking eyes to class that lay before him. I knew how much satisfaction he found when those dull eyes nodded their heads to his every word. My jaw ground tighter as I heard the teacher mumbling an excuse from the exam because Hayden didn't have a fair starting point like everyone else, he could try again a different day. And the stage played to the song of his voice.

I wanted to punch him in the face, pull out his stone heart and leave him vulnerable for the vultures that surrounded us. I looked away from his steady smile and gleaming grey eyes and down to my book.

Abstract art was my forte; it allowed me to draw my characters in their extreme naked truths. It also was a tendency I had within my very own thoughts as well; viewing others through metaphors, even in real life.

My pencil shaded the shadows that covered his luminous silver orbs and I etched the sides of his cold emotionless smile. He held onto a roughly sketched gavel in one hand and a marionette rod in the other; its strings connecting at the ends of each crossing point.

Drawn in his black gown and surrounded by the court's truth and justice symbols, he was still far from a comforting sight amongst all his power. His sketched form watched all below him, unworthy, pathetic, and weak. His smile belied the true cynical amusement that burned within his eyes, as his puppet strings left his podium and danced to the parties alike. Unknowingly they fought by the twitch of his fingers; he breathed a comment here and whoever it favored now began to look like the victor. The strings danced again and glided and people swayed in his play; thinking at all times that their words were their own.

And then he would pass his self-indulged judgment- which I knew all too well as it really being just who bored him the less- and the winning group would feel like they were superior in some way. His forged broad smile would congratulate them and then the room would sing at the touch of his words.

His friends, his social group; they were nothing more than tools of amusement- tools to help him pass the day by or help him pass through life without being noticed for what he really was. They were my sketched prosecutors and defenders- and in my drawing, they all bore his commanding wires... particularly a main link; a noose around their necks. It represented the discord he could create with the mere flick of his fingers... and I'm sure, somewhere deep down inside them... they all knew it was there.

But luckily for the idiots before us, no one had challenged him yet; for a doll who learns to walk on its own is of no use to the master anymore.

And that was exactly why I hated him the most.

He was the worst of them all; unlike the others whose actions never truly affected anyone else; he had a stage at his fingertips.

Everyone else in my sketchbook created their pathetic illusions to make them appear better, more interesting, less like the mindless creatures they really were.

But the predator before me only created the illusion of... normality. He breathed false innocence, all the while he manipulated the room around; to make the puppets entertain him all until he had his fill. Yet no one could see those strings- no one could see that puppeteer. His illusions would go unnoticed amongst the others while he toyed with their lives. I knew how many people's existence he had already ruined; how many teachers had quit this school because of him... how many former friends ended up turning to homeschooling because their strings had run out.

But no one else knew. He covered his trail- he'd smile and laugh like nothing had happened. And those that were destroyed couldn't prove anything. They could only stand frozen, as if they were only the wooden toys I drew them as. They couldn't understand what truly had happened. They could never see into the depths of those cold eyes, and see the true hell that smiled back. His lie was truly the best- the worst - of them all.

But I could see it. My sketchbook could mimic it.

His precious illusion; his sheep costume, it was not missed by my gaze. And what he didn't know; it was my lie that was superior.

He had no idea that I stood in those crowds. He had no idea there was someone similar to him amongst the dull eyed animals; no idea of my ever-patient gaze upon him. But I did anything but sympathize with him, and my lead threatened to snap as I retraced old lines and brought forth their contrast and truth.

My breathing had to force itself to remain calm for it resented that fact that it shared the same air as the vile man who stood before me. He walked along the rows of people and all the girls blushed in the wake of his movements.

"Nice one man," Bradley punched his arm and he laughed and winked at a cat fish as he walked by. Ashley, glowing from her posters debut, giggled and kissed her lips to the air and I closed my book and looked back down at my test in silence and in steadiness.

The chair next to me moved and Hayden sat down. As always, unaware of the only one who knew who he was. Like always; unaware of my psychotic notebook that laughed widely against the blaze of its content.

My fists tightened and I fought back the surge of disgust that ran through my body.

And there I heard it one last time as Bradley turned around to give him one more wink and thumbs up.

I heard that small laugh...

That quiet truth he allowed himself to breathe, knowing no one would know what it was.

But I did.

And it said it all.

Disgusting.

A/N: So... what do you guys think?