Rebel

Chapter Fourty

    We walked over to the line and stood behind a red-haired girl wearing black gloves. I didn't even realize that it was Eliza, the girl who took me to training weeks ago, until she turned around and started talking.

"Hey you two," She said in her annoying accent. "You gettin' dinner too? Or are you just here for dessert? 'Cause I don't think the lunch ladies will let you."

"No, we're getting food," Harvey said. "With the amount of food the people here are serving, you've gotta take as much as you can get."

"Hm," Eliza hummed, nodding. Then she turned to me, "So how's your trainin' goin', Sage? Have you passed it yet? Or are you still on the little kid level?"

"Shut up," I said. "My training status is none of your business."

"So that means you haven't passed it," Eliza said, nodding and rubbing her chin. "Bummer."

"Don't you have babies to punch or something, Eliza?" Harvey asked, crossing his arms.

"Babies to punch?" Eliza asked. "That's the best you've got, Harvey? Is purple hair a sign of idiocy or somethin'?"

"Is red hair a sign of desperation or something?" Harvey countered. "Because only someone as desperate as you will pick on someone who arrived four days ago just to make themself feel better about themselves."

Eliza's face turned as red as her hair. She huffed, "Listen here, it took me years of patience and obedience to get where I am in Sanctuary. The way you two are goin', it will take you decades. You'll never belong here. Or anywhere really. The people of Sanctuary will never trust you. Enjoy bein' babysat your whole life." Eliza spun on her heel and marched out of the cafeteria, abandoning her spot in line.

Ouch. That struck a little too close to home. I watched Eliza's back as she stomped out of the room, then turned back and faced the front of the line.

Okay, say I won't ever fit in anywhere. I'll just stand out and be awesome everywhere. No big deal. I'll travel around and forever be without a home. I'll be a wandering traveler. Wandering travelers don't need homes. And I don't want one anyway! Yeah. Yeah, that's the case.

But despite my own reassurance, I could still feel doubt and despair creeping in on my thoughts. Why was I letting this girl get to me? It doesn't matter what she thinks! Who cares if I'll never find a home.

You do, Sage, A more reasonable side of myself said. Ever since... ever since the incident, you've feared yourself and your abilities to fit in. You killed your own mother, and with her, you killed your chance of finding a home. Admit it.

"You good?" Harvey asked, snapping me out of my thoughts. He was leaning forward, his brow wrinkled with concern.

Uh oh, I thought. My emotions are showing, aren't they?

I cleared my throat, "Uh, yeah. I'm totally good. I just, uh..." For some reason, I couldn't think of anything. And why was my throat burning so much? And why was my vision blurring? "I'm not hungry anymore," I blurted out.

I couldn't take it anymore. Eliza had stirred up my thoughts and now it's getting to my head. I spun around and ran out of the cafeteria before anyone could see the tears in my eyes. What was wrong with me? I hardly ever cry. The last time I cried was when I was being tortured at Morsie's compound, and before that... I don't even know.

I ran down the hall and into the first empty room I found, which was the training room. A large rack of weapons sat on the far side of the room. In the middle was a boxing ring, and to the right were a few punching bags. To the left was a series of multipurpose targets; some shaped like humans while others were just circles with a bullseye.

I ran over to the punching bag and began relentlessly ramming my fists into it, tears streaming down my cheeks. Three punches in and my knuckles were stinging terribly, but I kept punching.

Stupid Eliza, I thought. Stupid emotions, stupid Sanctuary, stupid gun...

With every punch I thought of something I hated, something that I blamed everything for.

Death. The intruder who forced me to kill my mom. Cathleen Morsie. My foster father, Steve. My real father. Cathleen Morsie. Professor Hoolay. Rules. Jace. Cathleen Morsie.

No matter what I thought, everything led back to Morsie. She was the enemy. She put me here. She was who I had to get rid of.

By the time I was drained of energy, my knuckles were bleeding and swollen and my cheeks were wet and hot. I felt good. The ache in my hands kept me grounded. My thoughts were clear. Apparently punching things when you're mad really helps.

And best of all, I had a goal:

Take down Cathleen Morsie at all costs.