Layne Fargo

This is the most I’ve ever heard out of Tyler Elkin’s mouth. When he bothered to show up to my class, he grunted one-word answers, slumping down in his seat with his legs sprawled across the aisle like he didn’t give a damn how much space he took up.
They never do, men like him.

I’m always starving after a kill, even the ones that don’t require physical exertion

His entire life taught him that he was special, that consequences didn’t apply, that he’d pass with flying colors even if he turned in his midterm two weeks late. Even in his final moments, I doubt he learned his lesson. But I didn’t kill him to teach him a lesson; I killed him to carve him out of this world like a tumor. And I’d do it again.