My knife dragged along the wall as a completely uncharacteristic, bubbly laugh escaped my crimson lips. Insanity pumped through my veins, willing my emotions to flood in pools from my body.
I was bloodthirsty. I needed another victim.
Luckily, this school was filled to the brim with them. I could go into any dorm I wished and slaughter an unsuspecting, naive student.
My next victim cowered in the corner of her room, whimpering and crying. I titled my head to the side, my dark bangs shadowing my dangerously glinting eyes. A sick, twisted smile formed on my lips, revealing my pearly white teeth.
"What's the matter, Ikeda. Are you scared?" I asked, hysteria seeping into my every word with such softness, she released a loud sob.
"Leave me alone!" she cried weakly. My smile only grew at the sound of her despair. A dark chuckle escaped me and I walked slowly, inching closer toward the shaking, scared girl.
"You poor thing. I should probably make this quick," I said, my voice dripping with mocking pity, poking my bottom lip out in a frown. My sick smile returned, making my victim scream in agony.
"Then again, I want to please myself," I said lowly. My fingers ran blindly through the teenager's platinum blonde hair. Her crystal blue eyes glimmered with tears, making my heart soften ever-so-slightly.
I was disgusted.
"How revolting. It seems I have been cursed to take pity on you," I said, voice dripping with hatred. "No matter. This was fun anyway. Feel free to report your encounter. However, there is one small price to pay for your life."
"Wh-What is it?" the girl asked in a shrill voice. I licked my lips with a smirk.
"You must bear my insignia," I said lowly. She nodded vigorously, eyes wide. I chuckled darkly and took right hold of her dainty wrist.
What a terrible night for the screaming girl. The eve before the first day of school, no less. The school that I was to attend as a transfer student from England to Japan.
Hope's Peak Academy.
Once my insignia was placed in the fold of her right elbow, carved with a needle, I lapped up the extra blood with my tongue. Moriyama Ikeda was panting, tears rolling down her face, as I left without a trace.
That is, except for her new body art created by moi. "Jane the Killer," it read, after the Creepypasta character I had read so much about via Internet.
The best part was, I had two titles at this school for the talented: Super High School Level Elite and Super High School Level Serial Killer.
How delectably fantastic for me. So many victims in only a building. Wondrous, amazing, perfect. How flawless a place for a serial killer such as myself.
And to think they had accepted me of all people! Talent really does pay off, I suppose.
Ah, the bloodshed, the despair, the horror. How amazingly perfect my life has become.
So begins my high school life.