text: Hello, first time posting here. I found this writing prompt and decided to attempt it while setting myself a 30 minute time limit. The prompt: You are a teenager with the ability to measure how "Dangerous" people are on a scale from 1 to 10 by looking at them. A normal child would be a 1 while a trained man with an assault rifle might be a 7. Today, you notice the unassuming new kid at school measures a 10. *Jesus what the hell is that?* I thought the second I spotted him. Steven was the new kid, only about 5’2” tall, a real shrimp with a bowl cut and scrawny arms. He didn’t seem dangerous, but I knew that he was a walking disaster. He sat down in the science room by himself looking at the desk as the teacher began to speak. “Okay students, today is your lucky day because we are dissecting frogs today.” The teacher had sets of trays all with a frog and dissecting tools for each student. “Everyone come up and get a tray and sit down until we are all ready to start.” As the kid grabbed his tray along with the others I couldn’t help by shudder seeing the scalpel by his hands as he sat down with his frog muttering to himself. He almost looked ready to cry. *Maybe I’m wrong for once*, *how could this be right?* “Okay, now using the diagram on the projector, everyone make your first incision. Let me know if you need any help.” After cutting into my frog, I turned to look at the new kid. **11**. The number above his head went up as he sliced through the frog, still muttering under his breath. I dropped my pencil to bend closer to him. “*Ha ha ha and hee hee hee, happy knife and happy me. The knife goes in the knife comes out, it makes me smile, it makes me shout.”* A cold sweat broke out across my face as I picked up my pencil and went back to my frog. Suddenly I felt a tap on my shoulder that made me jump. “Jason.” The teacher said. “You sure are jumpy, does the dissection make you nervous? Maybe you can ask Steven for help, he did a terrific job.” Turning to look at Jason, he gave me a friendly grin that froze my veins like ice. On his table the frog was neatly sliced open, the skin separated from the fat and muscle as if by a master surgeon. Turning to the teacher I managed to stutter out a denial for help. “I-I’m okay, just the smell is all.” I forced myself to cut into the frog without screaming, but every time I looked over at Steven, I could see my own death looming over me. My teeth began to chatter as I watched him cut out every organ and lay it on the table like a collection of knick-knacks. Whenever the class got quiet enough, I could hear snippets of his mutterings. “*So small, so delicate, not meaty enough. Need something bigger to satisfy.”* He was humming to himself, his fingers drumming on the table as soon as he ran out of frog to dissect. His pale face began to turn red as he looked around at all the other students still working. **12.** The finger drumming became frantic as he twirled the scalpel in his hand with unnerving ease. He raised his hand and left to use the restroom. When he came back the number above his head was back to ten. As he walked by me he smiled and slipped me a piece of paper. Scrawled on the note was a phone number and a message. “You know it’s been a while since I’ve met another ten. We should keep in contact.