Gunshots. I lay on the floor in pain.
"Chris!" A voice called my name. "Chris! Chris!" I looked up. "Chris are you ok?"
Someone touches my face and rubs their thumb on my cheek. The world gets dark and cold. I close my eyes.
Let's pause for a second and let me introduce myself. My name is Chris. I'm 15 years old, and I'm a licensed assassin. You're probably wondering how I, a kid with good grades and good behavior, ended up in a life of shooting people because the government told me to. Well, let me take you through my life quickly. I was born February 12th, 2020 at 3:59pm. My parents' names are Nina Bloom and Gordan Bloom. I learned to walk when I was 5 months old and learned to read when I was 3. Up until my 13th year of living it was average, friends, boys, girls, tv, girls... anyway, it all started my 8th grade year in Seattle...
"I don't have any money, Anthony! Give me back my backpack!" I shouted.
"Well, I guess we'll leave you alone now." Anthony said. "NOT!" He and his stupid ugly group of friends walked off with my backpack laughing like hyenas. Who's Anthony? Only the biggest jerk in the entire world. I felt rage in that moment. My fist clenched. I ran after him and punched his stupid head. He fell to the floor. I had knocked him unconscious. I gasped. Everyone looked at me. I felt the world looking. The bell rang. Everyone continued to do what they were doing.
A couple of hours later I heard the intercom in my 5th period beep, signifying that someone was speaking into it. "Could Christi- I mean Chris Bloom please come to the office please."
"She- I mean they will be there." My teacher said. I got up and walked over there.
"So. It says here you... punched a kid unconscious?" My principal looked surprised. I sat there twisting my hair like an idiot.
"...yeah?" I said nervously.
She sighed. "Christina- er, Chris," She hesitated. A lot of people did that. I changed my name to something gender neutral, and people struggle with the change. "You're a good kid. You get good grades, and never cause any trouble. What got into you?"
I look at her.
"I- I don't know... it just happened. I didn't think."
She looked at me sincerely.
"I won't give you a suspension because this is the first time this has happened, but I will give you detention." I pouted. "Tell your parents you joined the yearbook committee." she whispered. I smiled.
As I was walking home from school a black limousine type car pulled over.
"Christina Bloom." A male voice said.
"Y-yes?" How did he know my name?
"CIA. Come with us."
A badge got pushed into my face. I nervously slipped into the car. It was nice inside. The seats were leather and almost like a cloud. Though I was comfortable, I was trembling with fear on the way to an undisclosed location. My thoughts were out of control. What did I do? Was it Anthony? Did is stupid rich father tell the government to come for me?
"I know what you're thinking." The man said. My face perked up at him with fear. "The kid you knocked out didn't get you in trouble." I look at him with a look that said 'how do you know so much about my personal life'?
"How- How did you-" I get cut off by a radio transmission.
"Agent 354 we need you to do another... pickup." A deep female voice said over the crackly radio.
"I'm on my way"
The car jerks to the left as we make a sharp U turn. I hit the wall of the car, my head not hurting somehow. I look up at the walls seeing that they are made of leather and some sort of foam.
"Where are we going?" I ask, starting to feel nauseous.
"We were going to a secret location, but now we're going to Spokane."
"Sp-Spokane?" My voice has a tone of concern.
"Yes. Spokane. Is that a problem?" He says firmly.
"N-Not at all."
I've lived in Washington my whole life. Moving from place to place, town to town, all for my dad's work. My favorite place was Spokane. But I learned to hate it. It's not the town that bugs me... it's a person. One of my childhood friends lives there, and that's not a good thing. She hates my guts. I think about that for a second, and then seconds turn into hours. Before I know it, we're in Spokane. I freak out when we stop. I recognize someone. It's her. The person who hates my guts. She steps closer to the car. I couldn't believe it. It was her.
"Sarah Macintosh." The driver named Agent 354 says "I'm with the CIA, we need to take you in for something."
