Author's Note: This short story is actually the first chapter of a full length sci-fi/slash story that I've had writer's block on for a while now. I realized a few days ago that the first chapter could actually stand on its own pretty well and decided to put it up to see what reactions it got.

As always, if you see any gramatical or spelling errors, please let me know. :)

Sometimes in life, things hit you hard. Shit comes flying at you from all angles and pretty soon you run out of clueless bystanders to hide behind. Sometimes a big old pile of shit will hit you right in the face at point blank range and there’s not a damn thing you can do about it.

Sometimes good people fall into hard times. Sometimes bad people fall into even worse times. It’s when that happens that I get a kick out of life and feel my mouth twitching into an almost-smile, just like now.

I’m leaning against a graffiti-covered wall by the metro line. Some punk kid, Jeremy’s his name (though he likes to go by Lash), just got slammed by the cops with the news that his parents just died. Apparently, some fat guy tripped in the next aisle over at a local grocery store and fell into the cereal aisle, knocking the thing right on top of them.

Christ, I hope I can go out with a bang like that.

The cops are leaving. Poor little Jeremy is looking pretty damn crushed. One of his cronies puts a tattooed hand on his shoulder.

“Hey, Lash, man, you alright?”

The punk whips around and connects the kids eye with his fist. The kid stumbles back, putting a hand to his rapidly darkening shiner.

“What the fuck, man?!” he asks in disbelief.

The punk shrieks. “Do I fuckin look alright?!”

The kid puts up his hands, trying to give a placating smile. “Dude, I was just tryin to help.”

“I don’t need your fuckin help,” Jeremy hisses viscously, almost in tears.

His friend gives him a look, half sympathy and half contempt, before nudging the others and walking away. They all slink after him, leaving poor little Jeremy alone in the subway station. He turns toward the wall, a huge sob racking his diaphragm.

Letting go of the cigarette in my mouth, I begin to clap slowly, the sound harsh and delightfully obnoxious in the silence, with the dripping city runoff the only other sound echoing off the peeling paint covering the walls.

His head jerks up and he wipes his eyes violently, smearing his black makeup.

“What do you want, bitch?” he bites out, looking a bit like he’d like to take back his words as he gets a good look at me.

I take a drag of my cigarette and blow it out elegantly, watching the lazy smoke curl up towards the blinking fluorescent lights. “Congratulations. I see you’ve effortlessly managed to humiliate yourself in public.”

“Look, asshole, my parents just fuckin died, a’ight? So leave me the fuck alone!”

“I heard. Crushed by Fruity Pebbles.” I lower my voice to a stage whisper and give him a sympathetic expression, my voice dripping with mockery. “Tragic.”

“Hey what’s your fuckin problem man? How ‘bout a little sympathy here?”

“Whatever for, Jeremy?” I ask languidly.

“How the fuck do you know my--”

“Every day I stand here, waiting for the sub and every day I hear you whining to your little friends. Oh my god, can you believe it? They grounded me! Just because they found the Jack Daniels I hid. I can’t wait until my old man finally eats the dirt.”

Tears are streaming down his face as I lazily repeat his words, his multiple lip rings shaking tremulously.

“Well guess what, Jeremy? You got your wish.” I stare blandly into his bloodshot eyes, which widen by the second. “You should feel lucky,” I shove my hand into the pocket of my black suit pants, making my wrinkled matching suit coat hitch up over my arm. “Not many people in this day and age see their wishes come true right before their very eyes.”

“Hey, fuck you man! Fuck you!” The last two words fade into a choked sob and he lunges at me, swinging wildly at my face. I neatly sidestep and he falls heavily to the concrete floor, lying on his stomach. Before he can get up, I swing my leg around his torso, and pull his arm behind his back, putting pressure on it as he struggles. He winces and begins to weep openly now, letting his tears mix with the sludge on the floor.

I tsk. “Come now, Jeremy. That was pathetic. You haven’t been having your Wheaties, have you? I guess you’ll always stay pathetic, since I’m sure from now on you’ll have a taste aversion for cereal, seeing as how it was the catalyst for your parents’ heartbreaking end.”

“What do you want?” he manages to croak out, giving up completely.

I inhale slowly through my nose and close my eyes, giving another almost-smile. “Nothing. Just to make sure you realize how worthless you are. You see, people like you, they sicken me, wholly and completely.” I lean over and speak slowly in his ear, my lips practically touching his earlobe. I can feel him shaking beneath me and I shudder slightly in revulsion.

“You whine about your troubles and wish pain for others, when really your life is pretty goddamn wonderful. Everything you say is false and pathetic, its sole purpose being a vain attempt to build up your pitiful and fairly nonexistent self esteem. To make you feel better than others, and better than you are. To make you feel special.” The sarcasm in the last word is overwhelming.

His tears have stopped flowing and he stares at the cracks in the floor blankly, not seeing, his eyes looking inward, lost in his thoughts.

I continue to whisper in his ear, the devil on his shoulder. “You sicken me, you worthless little piece of shit.”’

And I stand up, straightening my black tie slightly and tucking my disheveled white collared shirt back into my pants. (It had come out during our brief struggle.)

Dropping my used cigarette in front of his face and stepping on it, I take out a fresh one and slowly walk to the edge of the platform. Right on time, the metro pulls to a screeching stop and the rusty doors slide open. It’s empty as always, no one gets off and no one gets on, save for me. Stepping inside, I grab the pole and stare forward, bracing myself as the sub shoots off, leaving a grimy young man crumpled on the floor, staring blindly at the filth engrained into the chipped concrete.

The next morning I check the obituaries.

JEREMY DULTANE, AGE 18, WAS FOUND LATE LAST NIGHT WITH A LETHAL AMOUNT OF CRACK COCAINE IN HIS SYSTEM.

My mouth twitches into an almost-smile and I take a bite of Fruity Pebbles.

Sadistic? Maybe.

AN: Feedback is appreciated!