I am Katze and I win. I always win, even if it seems like I'm losing at the time.

I will win this time. Just let me get my hands on that bastard.

He fucking ruined everything!

And what really pisses me off is that if I happen to see that motherfucker, as much as I want to destroy him, break him, all he has to do is that convenient little trick of his.

That fucked up parlor trick where he can feel me up and even blow me without even touching me. One second of that and I'd be his.

Yeah, this is the same Katze who fucks everybody over. And they all deserve it, the pitiful weaklings. Everyone is mine and if they're not mine by the end they are.

Except him.

But you heard right, he made me his, the fucker.

And the little shit doesn't even want me anymore!

Fuck him! I always get what I want and I will get him.

I don't care how long it takes. I will have him.

Then I will break his heart. Just like he broke mine.

Oh, yeah, baby, he broke my heart and I will never forgive him for that.

Or for making me fall for him in the first place

It was supposed to be so easy, shit, it should have been. This was a teenager!

Chicken is usually too easy, I don't bother with them but there was something different about him.

Oh yeah, that's an understatement, but I didn't know that then, of course.

I saw him for the first time at this club. Charon. Interesting name, but that was where it ended. All the boys there were goth wannabees with dyed black hair and kohl rimmed eyes.

Boring.

Clubs were not the places I usually went hunting but no one at the college interested me anymore.

At one time two boys did. Two beautiful twins. One thought he was straight but I cured him of that defect damned quick. I owned him body and soul!

Period.

I even got him to rape his own brother. That's how much he wanted to please me.

Not like that's unusual. Everyone wants to please me when I have them.

Oh, just thinking of Madra fucking his vapid twin brother makes me want to come right now.

It was so fucking beautiful. My masterpiece.

Then Madra went completely apeshit on me, deciding to save Keiji from me, from himself.

How noble. Makes me want to puke.

I won though, just like always. I got him and made him into something more than he had been before.

And he did just what I wanted him to do.

He was almost too easy.

A little after that, there was this professor, at the same college, who thought he would get me in bed in exchange for good grades.

Hah! I had him begging in no time.

It was time for another notch on my belt.

Which was why I was at this pathetic club. After I saw the sorry fare, I was about to leave.

Then he caught my eye.

Shit, he was fucking gorgeous, kid or no kid. Kind of angelic and dark at the same time. Curly black hair, black eyes that burned with a craziness that enticed me, and pouting red lips just meant for me to plunder. And as pretty as he was, there was nothing soft or feminine. I wouldn't put up with such weakness.

For a teenager, he had a damned fine body. Slight, slender, but the legs had the sinew of a dancer or a runner, and he was voluptuous in the right places.

Like his ass. Quite fuckable.

I liked the way he moved on the dance floor. Languid, graceful, fluid movements. Totally uncaring of anyone else around him.

So sure of himself.

I definitely liked his looks, but it was his arrogance that attracted me.

And when he turned to glance at me, his lustful gaze moving up and down my body and his tongue licking his lips, I knew I had to had him.

But when he had the balls to look away, to dismiss me, then I decided not only would I take him, I'd break him.

Into itty bitty shards.

I saw the leather jacket, red tank top, and black jeans, but he had the whiff of the street. Street feral. Street smart. The only thing he wasn't was street trash.

I wouldn't have bothered.

He didn't carry himself like a common whore. A slut, definitely, but not a whore.

And no rich Mommy and Daddy to run to.

Fucking perfect.

I could hardly wait.

I didn't make my move right away. No, I wanted to bag this one right.

I just watched him. For the first few nights, that's what I did. I observed him.

The boys he chose left a lot to be desired. How disappointing.

Twinkies.

And he wasn't subtle.

Oh no, he slowdanced with them, fucking them on the dance floor. I even saw him take boys into the back corner, sink to his knees and go down on them.

Only, even on his knees, he didn't seem submissive.

I wasn't planning on waiting for long. One night I went there and didn't see him. No trace, I was about to leave, but then I suddenly felt someone tapping my shoulder.

"You're following me. Why?"

I never heard his voice before, but I knew it was his without even turning around.

I turned to face him anyway and turned on the charm, my violet-grey eyes never leaving his black ones. "Most people would consider it a compliment."

He laughed, a husky chuckle. "Really?"

The boy had a definite Southern drawl, but underneath was the telltale accent of immigrant.

I noted the light, golden brown flesh. Probably a Spic.

"Where are you from," I asked, not one to mince words.

"Florida," was all he said.

Hmmm. I could use the shame he obviously felt about being a foreigner to my advantage. Especially if he was an illegal alien.

"But you weren't born there."

He shrugged. "No." Again, just one word.

The little brat wasn't going to get off that easy. "What country are you from," I finally asked, trying to keep the annoyance out of my voice.

"Pireaus. Greece." He looked bored. "Are we going to fuck or are you going to play 20 questions, sunshine."

Very direct. I didn't know if I liked it or not.

All I knew was he was going to take a lot of investment. But it would be worth it to destroy him.