Evil (Watty Award)

Chapter 1: On the Train

Chapter 1: (Hayley's P.O.V.)

                I looked around the dark train. The passengers were all asleep and the only light I could see was the emergency walk ways and the lonely moon. A phone rang in the distance, and I fastened my pace.

    

"’Lo?" I heard a deep man’s voice echo though the train. Now I'm not the only one awake. I hurried into the restroom, and locked the door.

    

Gosh! Why does this place have to be so small, I pondered inside my head. I quickly took out my tools: a knife, a pocket knife, and small razor. I set my objects aside and looked down at my arm. My arm was covered in scars; scars that won't go away, scars that are forever in my life. They are my battle, my pain, my life, and most of all, my secret.

      

There was a loud banging on the door, followed by a deep voice that I recognized. “Hullo? Anybody in there?"

    

I sighed and hurriedly grabbed my tools and put them inside my black jacket pocket. "Yes, someone is in here."

I swiftly pushed the door open and came face to face with a young teenage boy. Then I noticed a long scar that run down his cheek. I itched to graze my hand along the scar, but I restrained myself.

    

“Sorry," he muttered and took a few steps back.

I felt my blood rush into my cheek as he caught me staring. I turned my head and looked down the dark hallway of the lonely train.

    

"Um...um... Do you know where...." I trailed off. Where what? Why am I so stupid?

    

Just leave! my head screamed. I jumped out of the way, turned left, and continued to quicken my pace.

    

"Excuse me? Where is what?” the teenage boy called after me.

I didn't turn around, but quicken my pace even further until I reached the end of the train. Totally out of breath, I looked at my watch. It was 2:30 AM.

    

"Hayley, you have to concentrate. This is a mission, not a game you play on the computer," I reminded myself.  As I recalled the mission I received from my commander, I was to kill a guy name Sam Locke. He was a Russian spy that was said to kill the president.

I tried to calm down by reminding myself who I was. My name is Hayley. I'm a secret spy—actually, more like an assassin. Twelve people have died under my hand; my god awful hand. I’m seventeen years old. My father died because of a car crash and I never had a mother. I’m a killer. What the hell? What else am I? Everything you can think of that relates to death, blood, knives, murder, and secrets, a lot of deadly little secrets: that's who I am.

     

 I laid my head on my hand, not letting a single tear leak out. I'm a strong person. I will not suffer pain. I had killed many before, so why is it so hard to kill another? I lifted my head up and looked around the train. There was a long empty bench that was not soft, but seemed comfortable enough to lie on. In the back, boxes a lined along the wall and a door lead to the end of the train. I went to open the back door. Fresh air would help calm me down for sure.

    

Blasts of cold air slammed against my face, nearly knocking me back. A harsh chill breezed up my arms, and the sensation of calmness ran through me. I'm free, and I'm unknown. I stood on the back balcony of the train for more than half an hour, until I realized how tired I was. I took another lung-full of air, and then retreated back into the train. Tomorrow, someone will die, someone who I must murder before it's too late.