Depend On Me

Chapter One

"I can assure you, I have no idea what you are talking about," I smiled as the men glared at me. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small pocketknife and quickly swiping at my face leaving a thin crimson line on my face. I tsked. "Don't you know the face is a girls most valuable asset?" I chided while brandishing my own knife. He swiped at me again and I barely managed to evade his blade. This happened a few more times before I grew bored. I picked up the handle of what seemed to be the remnants of a mop and crashed it behind his knees knocking him to the floor and slamming his head against the cement.

Shit, he's dead. I thought. I poked him with the tip of my shoe. No reaction. I kneeled down and looked at him. Still breathing. I sighed a quick breathe of relief. Time to get on with it, I thought, a small smile creeping across my face. I took my knife and delicately carved a note into his face so he wouldn't forget whom he messed with. I stood and admired the two delicate crimson letters scrawled on his left cheek: V.C. My admiration was short-lived as I heard the sirens closing in. I took this as my cue to leave and quickly climbed the fire escape and ran to the opposite edge of the roof. I looked down, about a 20-foot drop. I jumped to the other building and landed by rolling. I stare up at the star-speckled sky and can't help but laugh at the euphoric feeling I get every time I come face to face with a dangerous situation. After my adrenaline induced high came to a slow I decided to head home. By the time I got home it was 9:00 p.m. I took a deep breath and walked in.

"Kahlia? Is that you?" My mom called from her room.

"Yeah, Mom! Sorry, club ran late!" I called as I closed the door to my room. My mom never really cared when I came home, as long as I did. She was too busy with work to notice me. I threw my phone on my bed, grabbed a tank top, leggings, panties, and my towel and headed to the shower. After my shower I checked my phone. A few missed calls and texts from my friends. I check my other phone, my "work" phone, a text from May, a "worker", with a video attached to it. The video's title read "On The Brinks Of War? Should We Be Worried?"

I rolled my eyes and clicked play. The video contained nothing more than a few speculations on the recent "human tagging" with the letters V.C. I call May.

"May?" I wait for a reply. "May, are you there?"

"Yeah," She replies finally. "Had to go outside, sorry. What's up? Did you see the video?"

"Yeah," I say, my voice sounding cold to even me, "find the one who posted it. I don't care what you do after that. We can't have anyone trying to play detective."

"Got it," She says and the line goes dead. I lie on my bed and look up at my ceiling, the bright pink on my walls being too much for my eyes at the moment. I look around, pink walls, pink blanket, pink carpet, pink curtains. My room looked so innocent. No one would suspect I was the one between the V.C. tags that came along with latest spree of "violent crimes." I guess that's why they didn't kill me then and there. They figured I could be a good cover up. Just then my phone goes off with my text alert. The text reads "Meet @ the dorm by 10:30." I check the time; I have 30 minutes. I tell my mom I'm going out but she's too preoccupied with whatever she's working on. I lock the door behind me, and head towards the dorm.