Compulsory Killer

Prologue

It all started when I was flying to Germany for a trip. Little did I know that this flight would change everything that defined my life.
It was only an hour into the flight and I couldn't sleep on the plane no matter how hard I tried. I kept checking my watch and the flight map and every time I was disappointed at how far we had yet to go. I couldn't wait to see Germany! There is so much history there and for some reason I am in love with their language despite what many people say about it being ugly and sounding awful.
I should try to sleep, I tell myself. I rolled my head over to one side, and felt myself about to drift off, then turbulence shook me back awake. So I just sat there-- I wasn't going to fall asleep. I wasn't even very tired. I watched a movie, then ate some food when lunch came. After I eat, I sit. And sit. And sit some more.
"Hhhuuuuhhhh." I sighed in boredom. The guy across the isle from me turns to look at me. He has short cut curly brown hair, and brown eyes. Maybe around thirty years old. As he looks at me I can see pity in his eyes, and sadness too. He looks down at my family and turns his head downward in what looks like guilt. I wondered why. I want to talk to him-- help him-- ask him what is wrong. But he is a stranger and you know-- stranger danger. Plus that would just be weird. He taps his finger against his leg, as if worried.
I decide that since I have nothing to do, I would go to the bathroom and fix myself up. I grabbed my bag full of toiletries, unstrap my seat belt, and take my blanket off of me. I walk down the isle and into the bathroom. I lock the door behind me, then get my toothbrush and toothpaste out of my bag. I put a tiny bit of the mint flavored paste onto my toothbrush, trying to use it sparingly as I only have the tiny plane size. I brush for a while then spit and rinse my mouth. I brush my hair, then put it into two French braids so that it won't get messed up easily. I wash my face with this face rub stuff that smells amazing.
I look in the mirror. Looking back at me is a girl who has no idea of what her life is about to throw her way. I have brunette hair with natural highlights of lighter brown hair, and when it's down it's wavy. I have straight, white teeth, curtesy of the braces I  got taken off 2 months ago. I have rosy cheeks (which annoy me immensely, they are too red in my opinion) and a small pointy nose. I have a strong jawline. My eyes are hazel, like my dads. In the center they are brown, then there is a ring of green, then a circle of  blue. The edges are black. When my  hair is down it reaches my waist. A lot of people call me beautiful, but I don't believe it, the compliments go through me and don't sink in. The voices in my head always tell me lies. Their hissing voices tell me things, that to me seem like the truth. I look at the ground. 'Snap out of it', I tell myself. I hate it when I pity myself and act like a depressed teenager. I admire the necklace that hangs down from my neck and reaches my collar bone. It is a simple gold necklace with a small solid gold heart hanging from it, about the size of my pinky nail. I hold the cold metal in my hand. My dad gave it to me before he died. It is simple, and that's why I like it. It portrays a simple message as well. I love you. A reminder that I am loved by someone, even if that person is dead.
I rip my eyes from the necklace and I realize it's kinda cold, so I untie the Maroon sweatshirt from my waist and slipped it on. I exit the bathroom and go back to my seat. Then I organize all of my stuff and stash my bag with a water bottle, my phone, a granola bar, my sketch book, and a pencil and eraser under the seat infront of me. Then I sit and try to close my eyes again. After thirty minutes my eyelids itch and get heavy, and I drift off.
I awake to strong turbulence. The whole plane shakes and I sit up as fast as I can. I tighten my seatbelt grip my arm rests. I hate turbulence. I can feel my breathing get heavier.
I can picture our plane crashing in the ocean and water leaking into the plane. Everybody is screaming. Some sit in their seats and accept that they are going to die. My family drowning as I struggle and get out of the plane, stuck in the middle of the ocean. I'm alive to suffer, I'm the only one alive, I have to swim and float until I have no more energy...
I stop myself from thinking about that and grip my seat. I shouldn't be afraid of turbulence I mean, I'm thirteen! I sigh then turn to look at my brother next to me. He has dark brown hair, hazel eyes, and tons of freckles scattered on his face. I see my mom, with brown eyes and long dark brown hair, her belly five months pregnant. My dad was killed just after her pregnancy. This trip is to get away for a bit. I remember his kind smile, and his gleaming hazel eyes. I turn to my other side to see the man with short curly hair, again giving me that pitiful look. I give him my signature glare-- raising one eyebrow and looking at him like he's crazy, to make him feel uncomfortable, and then I turn and look forward. Out of the corner of my eye I am watching to make sure he has stopped staring, when I see him reach down to get something out of his black duffel bag. He sits there for a second as if considering something. He shakes his head as if telling himself to just do it. To just hijack the plane. He pulls out the gun that was in his duffel bag and yells, "Everybody on the floor!" In his hand is a black pistol. As fast as I can I slip onto the plane's crummy brown carpet. The man slings his duffel bag onto his shoulder. I am trembling with fear, considering all of the worst case scenarios.Then he turns to me.
"Get up, you're coming with me, Rebecca East."
That was one of the scenarios. How does he know my name?
I feel my eyes widen with fear, and I am frozen with shock. No. No. This isn't real, it's a nightmare. Pure dread and fear fill me. I start to gag. My stomach throbs and I throw up onto the floor, the acid burning my throat. I throw up until there is nothing left in my stomach to throw up, so I just gag. Terror eats away at my stomach. The man ignores it.
"I said , get up!" He  yells with the barrel of the gun pointed at me. I try to grab the gun and yank it from his hand, but he masterfully grabs my arm and forces it behind me-- bending my arm and wrist at a painful angle. Pain pulses through my arm. He pulls me off the ground forcefully. He pushes me in front of him his gun pointed threateningly at my head, the gun's barrel against my skull. Beads of sweat form on my forehead.
"If anyone moves, she's dead." The tension in the air is palpable. Adrenaline and fear course through my blood. I turn to look at my family and see anger, fear, and hatred displayed on their faces. My little brother stands up but my mom pulls him down, there was no way she was losing two children. Both of them are sobbing.
"Please," she begged the man desperately. "Please don't do this, take me instead. Please I will do anything, please don't do this."
"I'm afraid that won't be possible." Says the man. I'll never see them again. I conjure up all of my memories with them. I scream, then cry. I shriek as loud as I can. I try to kick the guy behind me, but I am weak with fear and the blow fails. I wriggle and try to gain freedom, but his grasp is too strong. I realize we are walking to the emergency exit. Oh no. We are not jumping out. The man reaches the exit and takes two small backpacks out of his duffel bag, and from my action movie experience, I'm guessing they are parachutes.
"Yank this to activate the parachute." He says to me, pointing to a red tab hanging limply from the bag. I am still frozen with shock. I'll let him go first and not jump-- no that's stupid the air will suck me out-- and he won't go first. If that doesn't work, I'll shove him out-- no, he's heavy and strong. If that doesn't work... I turn to my family.
"I love you!" I yell, tears streaming down my face and a painful ache in my heart. "Goodbye."
Then the man forcefully opens the hatch. I hold onto a persons chair. Oxygen masks drop from the ceiling and an alarm goes off. The freezing wind sends a chill down my spine that engulfs my body in cold water vapor, and my lungs gasp for air. I can't breathe. The man holds onto the flight attendants chair, then grabs me by the arm, pulls me from the chair and shoves me out of the plane. I free fall, and as the wind whips across my face I begin saying my final prayers.