It's weird going out to the lunch tables from the club. Everyone is so quiet now when they take a seat outside in the sun. It's like the first time I sat with them; everyone seems to be in the same spot. The only difference is now I know everything. I didn't sit with them yesterday because of going into the office to drop my class. Josh brings up a bag and pulls out food for him and Tyler to share. Frank and Gerard both mutually decide to go to the food court and get something. I'm a bit hungry, but for some reason I don't bother to do anything about it. Maybe the shellshock is setting in.

The silence lasts too long for my liking, and I also want to get away from my thoughts, "Today was productive with the training and all. Learned a lot!"

"Yes, and you'll learn more Thursday." Ryan says staring ahead of himself before bringing a fork full of salad to his mouth.

Silence again. Eventually Frank and Gerard come back with some sub sandwiches. They exchange a brief conversation between themselves before eating. I mindlessly take out my phone and flip through apps just to look like I'm doing something.

"Hey, no food, new guy?" Frank asks.

I look up from my phone, "Uh, no. Not that hungry."

"Here." He tosses me a bag of chips, "You did good today."

I graciously smile, "Thanks, man."

"He wouldn't shut up about you." Gerard says.

Frank playfully shoves him, "Not like anything interesting is going on. Last job I had was 2 weeks ago and we mostly do everything together." He beams at Gerard.

"Naw, it is interesting having a new member. God knows we've tried to find others." Gerard replies.

"Convenient being roommates with Dallon, ya know?" I say, patting Dallon on the shoulder.

The taller man pretty much ignores me, and I'm fine with that.

"Not convenient for everyone." Frank says before taking another bite of his sandwich.

"Truly." Gerard says to Dallon, "I don't even remember your previous roommate's name."

"Thomas Shumaker." Dallon replies.

"Oh, wait a minute," Gerard turns to Frank, "that guy with the glasses in your world studies class."

"Yeah, I remember him. Rest in peace, dude." Frank finishes before briefly laughing.

I open my bag of chips so roughly that it almost splits in half. A casual conversation about some guy Dallon killed... delightful.

~~~

The next day rolls around, and it's awkward sitting beside Ryan. Last night gave me more than enough time to overthink about my actions around him. I can't help with how I act sometimes, but I wouldn't want to see him truly pissed. That's no fun. Little things here and there shouldn't be harmful, besides it's a mental defense mechanism.

"About yesterday," Ryan starts, "I got a little rough. I can't police you for being yourself."

I'm surprised by this, "Oh, yeah. I mean, I guess I could tone it down, anyway. This stuff is serious, right?" I say, almost shocked that I feel compelled to compromise a part of me that he seems to actually be fine with.

He looks at me, "Right."

There's something different in his eyes... something soft amongst the rough demeanor.

"Alright class." The professor starts the lesson of the day. I look away from Ryan and smile to myself.

~~~

Thursday evening rolls around and I still haven't talked to Patrick. It's just the beginning of all this, and I think I'm handling it well enough. I walk with Dallon to the club. When we get inside, I relax at one of the tables for a bit since Ryan hasn't shown up yet. I look around the room and notice that Frank and Gerard aren't here. They are the two people I would have enjoyed spending some time talking with. I sigh, flicking at a piece of crumpled up paper laying on the desk.

Soon enough, Ryan walks into the room. He doesn't make a scene to get everyone's attention, and instead, approaches me.

"Frank and Gerard have a job tonight, so Dallon and I will go through the second part of weapon training with you." He says.

I nod my head, "Sounds good."

"Let's do this." He looks to Dallon, "Grab a knife and a gun."

We all walk to the next room and quickly get into the session. My biggest fear is getting sliced by the blade, but besides that, everything seems to be the same. When I do ask about the gun, Ryan waves it off like it's not as important. I would rather pull the trigger and turn away than actually stab someone in close proximity to me. I don't mildly argue with the brown haired boy. That resistance to crack a joke or ask any 'unnecessary' questions leads me with a feeling of heavy discomfort. It's the silent ambiance that makes everything feel real, and here I am letting it linger.

At the end of the session, Ryan says, "You're good with a blade."

I just say, "Thanks." with a humble smile.

"By next week you'll be ready enough for your first kill."

"So soon?" I ask, feeling nervous.

Ryan nods, "Think of someone within the next few days. Give it a week and a half after that point, and everything should be set in place. Since you haven't killed before, some of us will help you execute the job."

"Teamwork, I like it." I reply.

"When it comes down to it, it'll be all you." Ryan says.

"Oh yeah, definitely. Can't wait, ya know? My first kill will surely be an experience." Now I'm just talking out of nerves, realizing that this will happen in no time.

~~~

Hey Pat, it's Brendon.

I guess we should talk.

Ease up on giving me a

nickname. I prefer

Patrick. Meet me at 5

near the 800s building.

It's around 5. Instead of heading to the dorms, I go right to where Patrick plans to meet me. Thankfully, I avoid seeing Dallon. I doubt he's been eyeing my actions lately, but it's better to play it safe. I check my phone every so often to see if Patrick is going to say anything else. There's no added response. Soon enough I see him walking over with a cellphone pressed to his ear. I catch the ending of his conversation when he approaches me.

"Yeah babe, I'm with him now. Love you too." He ends the call.

"Who were you on the phone with?" I ask, intrigued.

"Pete."

Oh, I think, "He's your...?"

"Boyfriend." There's a pause, "It's a small world when circumstances are fucked. We only have each other."

"I see." I reply.

"Anyway, let's just cut to it. Did something happen?" He says with a concerned expression.

"Not yet. Ryan said I'd be ready in over a week to... you know." I say quietly.

Patrick takes a breath, "You're not going to come back from this the same."

"Yeah, no shit. Pete already gave me that talk." I say.

Patrick's upper lip quivers in annoyance, "I don't know why he even bothered with you."

"What is that supposed to mean?" I say, starting to feel irritated.

"You seem like a goddamn lost cause to me with your choices." He says through gritted teeth.

"I know what I'm doing. Even if I did dig a hole for myself, I know damn well how to get out of it." I say, matter-of-factly.

Patrick scoffs, "Humor me, huh? What's your big plan?"

I don't really have a plan, and it makes me feel like I'm playing both sides. God, this was such a bad idea, "I'm... working on it, okay?"

"And I know what that means." Patrick says.

Through anger, I feel compelled to be honest, "Fuck you, alright? You're supposed to have my back along with Pete. I don't want to lose myself. Really thinking about it scares the hell out of me. I'm trying... to just deal with this and do what I can."

"I understand that but... you should have an idea of why it's really hard to simply cooperate with you." He says almost desperately.

It takes me a second, "Ryan."

"That son of a bitch is a monster, okay?" He says with wide eyes.

"I can handle him. He's a person, there has to be some ounce of humanity in him-"

"You're sympathizing already." He says seeping into a disappointed expression.

"So, the fuck, what?" I ask, speaking almost in defense of Ryan as well as myself.

Patrick shakes his head, "Do what you want. Swim too far off in the deep end and I won't be able to get to you, got it?"

I nod.

"I'm going to go. Delete our texts, and be careful if anyone starts to closely monitor you, whether it's out of suspicion or not. We can change our communications then."

"Okay." I say, watching as he walks away.

~~~

Entry 4

Days go by and my growing frustration seems immanent. I can't, for the life of me, think of who I hate so much that I wish they were dead. I think back to my classes and no one seemed to be bothersome... although I do now remember seeing one guy in that music class before I dropped it. His name is Jackson and he used to go to my highschool before eventually dropping out before senior year. Who knows why, but apparently whatever he did wasn't bad enough to exclude his chances to go to a school like this. He was kind of an asshole. It's like he wanted people to hate him even though he belonged with the popular kids and played some sports. I dropped my grudge with him over this past summer, so seeing him pop back up in my life wasn't a big deal. I never bothered to note it, especially after I met Pete. He seemed to distract me from anything in my recent past. Well, I guess I'll choose him. I wouldn't care if he died anyway. He made me hate myself more than I already did at the time. I'll keep these thoughts at the forefront of my mind knowing that his life will eventually be taken by me. There's a feeling of power amongst the lack of morality. The hesitation to grab onto the feeling is prevalent. I can act like a monster, but I don't know if I would want to become one. I could imagine a safety amongst one of the two, but there's too much of a willingness to hold onto myself. Well, who even am I anyway? Can't I change? Do I even want to? Time isn't on my side, and soon enough shit will just happen and I will have to face it as it comes.

~~~

It's a few days before the job on another late afternoon in the club. Ryan knows about Jackson and Gerard has been doing some research. A tactic is already being built, so I wonder what I could even do today besides more practice or something.

I sit around for a while before Ryan walks over to the desk I'm at, "Come to the other room with me."

I say, "Okay." And I don't mind extra practice, honestly. I can always get better.

Ryan doesn't tell me to retrieve any weapons. It's just use two in the room and he looks at me with a blank expression.

"In a few days you'll take your first life. Training is out of the way, but one of the most important things to keep in mind is your fuel for the kill. For some, it's the drive for satisfaction. For others it's the built up anger for revenge."

"So, I should get angry." I say.

"That guy was a fucking asshole, was he not?" Ryan asks.

"He was the worst." I say.

"Tell me what he did to you." Ryan demands.

"He called me a fag and tried to steal my shit."

"What else?" Ryan says, stepping closer to me.

"He used to push me around and made fun of what I wore." I say, and recollecting the memories do begin to light a flame of anger.

"He pushed you, huh? Like this?" Ryan shoves me back.

It takes me off guard, but I go with it, "Yeah."

Ryan gets close again, "Called you a goddamn faggot." Another shove.

I can feel the heat rising from my core, "That son of a bitch really fucked with me." I say.

"What do you want to do to him?" Ryan asks, raising his voice.

I raise mine as well, "I want him dead."

"No." Another shove, "What do you want to do to him?"

"I-" Ryan cuts me off with another shove, "What the fuck do you want to do with that piece of shit who made your life hell?"

"I want to kill him!" I yell, and I feel the awful earnesty in the pit of my stomach, "I want to watch him fucking die by my hand."

"That's it!" Ryan says, patting my shoulders before gripping them, "Hold that inside you from now until then."

"I will." I reply.

"Good." He says, letting his hands linger on my shoulders for one more moment before brushing down my arms.

I smirk to myself when he walks away. I embrace the ghost of his touch while the heat of my vengeance dwindles.