As long as I live

Chapter 3: Violet

I was running again. Third time this week too I . Either I'm losing my game or the police have stepped it up. They're really starting to piss me off.

The city dissapeared behind me as my legs kept moving across the ground. I could hear dog barks and sirens fading into the distance. Finally I thought. They always give up each time I get to the woods.

I slowed to a walk and risked a glance behind me. Just trees. The dirt trail beneath my boots was still slick from all the rain we've had this week.

The abandoned cabin I've been staying in appears before me, as rustic and old as ever. I climbed the steps and swung open the front door peering into the darkness. I peeled off my wet socks and muddy boots, placing them by the firplace. I dropped the backpack on the bare matress I sleep on and grabbed the matches from the table.

Starting a small fire, the cabin gained an ominous glow and gave it the creepy cabin in the woods feeling. I reached beside me to grab some wood to find I was out.

"Shit." I breathed out as I grabbed my boots and marched out into the forest, the light fading quickly as the sun set. I walked over to my chopping block and began to work. By the time I had a sufficient pile the moon was already out and the starless sky was dark.

I hauled my wood back inside and fed the fire, watching the embers float around the wood. I sighed.

No time to rest I thought to myself. I had to prepare for my next assignment. I walked over to the small backpack I had acquired today. It contained throwing knives, a short blade, a handgun, and a silencer. I walked over to the little dirty mirror that hung over a small sink.

I pulled my long dark brown hair up into a high ponytail and checked the rest of my face for scratches I may have gotten. My grey eyes pointed out a small scratch I had received near my left eye. Of course I got a new one. I always wore my scratches and scars proudly as a sort of reminder of what I do and why I do it.

I walked back over to the bag and smiled, picking up the blade case that contained the throwing knives. I ran a finger over the deadly blade and tested the weight in my hand. It felt like it should to any assassin; Powerful, deadly, weightless.

I spun fast on my heels and threw it hard at the small target I made on the back of the door. Bullseye.

It had been this way for the last seven years of my life. The organization had found me when I was ten, wandering the streets by myself. My parents were murdered when I was nine and I had witnessed the entire thing.

I was asleep in bed, when my mom came rushing in a frantic look on her face, she dragged me out of bed and shoved me into a small linen closet and closed it behind her.

I heard footsteps, like marching soldiers, storming through our house. I peeked into the crack in the closet door, just in time to see my dad be impaled and strung up on the wall, and my mother crying and clawing at his killer, only to take a bullet to the head.

I stayed in the closet, not making a sound. I wasn't crying, I wasn't screaming. I was furious. When the men left, I called 911 and left the house. I never looked back.

I shook off the memory and continued to nail the target over and over again, letting all my anger pour out.

She's going to die. I smiled at the thought of her blood on my blade, her dead corpse lying still, eyes wide open in terror. I had asked G for this assignment personally. He knew I wanted revenge and I was the best person to do the job.I wanted to make them pay after the pain they caused me. They needed to hurt. The princess has live long enough.

After all it was the royal guards who murdered my parents.