Compulsory Killer

Chapter 5

"Oh good, your here." Says Peyton, letting out a sigh of relief as I enter the room. Her blonde hair is a mess, as if she had been running her hands through it nervously, and she sits on the floor, at the base of my bed.
"I'm sorry I made you worried. Me and Jose were in the training room and we had to run to get back."
"Oh, I was just in there, I didn't see you." She says, trying to act innocent.
"You know that one archery room? Yah we were in there." I say with ease. I sit down on the dull blue carpet next to Peyton.
"Oh that makes sense." She says. She pauses. Then continues. "What if this lock down is because of the murderer? What if he just tried to kill someone else?" She says, trying to cover up her worry, but I see straight through her.
"It's ok, I'm sure everyone's safe." I say convincingly. She nods.
"I hope so."

I open my eyes with a start. I hear a scratching sound at the door. The sound of someone trying to break in to our room. I am still on the ground, Peyton curled up on the ground a few feet away. I check my watch. 1:00 AM. I stand up silently and pad over to the door. The handle is shaking, but our door is locked so the person can't get in. I know they are trying to pick the lock. I get in a defensive position get as close to the door as I can, and open it with speed. The corridor is pitch black, the only light is coming from my rooms bathroom. That is the way I can see the hooded figure in front  of me. I can't tell anything about it, it is dressed in black from head to toe. The person tries to punch my side, I block the blow with my arm, but just barely. Suddenly my head clears. I haven't felt like this since the day Chris tried to capture me. The hooded figure draws a knife. Time slows down. I calculate the hooded figures next move and block it. Then I catch it off guard and give it a blow to the stomach. The person recovers quickly and is ready to attack, it jabs low with the knife and then speedily moves to thrust the knife into my upper chest. I see it coming and grab his arm, I use the persons arm as a rotation point and spin so that my back is against the persons chest. As the person uses it's arm to try and jab me I duck so it almost stabs itself, and then I use its moment of weakness and confusion to grab it's arm and twist it backwards, making it drop the knife. I catch the knife before it hits the ground. I put the person in a head lock from behind, and hold the knife to its neck. I am about to pull the hood off of its face when it elbows me powerfully in the rib cage. It turns around kicks me in the shin, punches the side of my face, rips the knife from my hand, and runs.
I stand in place for a second , confused, shocked, wondering who was the person under the hood. I know I can't catch them now. It's pitch black and I don't know where it is. I should have seen those last moves coming. I walk back into my room which is now about ten meters away, walk in, and shut the door behind me. I hear it lock it with a click. I slide down the door into a sitting position and think. Why could I not calculate that it was going to elbow me, how could I not see it coming? Who would do that? Why would it try to attack me? Or was it trying to attack Peyton? What did it want? I know I should tell someone-- but that might put me in greater danger, or endanger the person I told. I have a feeling it was the same person that murdered Bailey. Did they attack me because I tried to open that thing in the wall? What does that thing do anyway?

I wake up the next morning on my own. It is 5:30AM. Last night is still on my mind, I have a endless list of questions. My inquisitive mind rambles on. This school is full of secrets; the panel in the armory, the hand scanner thing, the murderer.
I take a hot shower, brush my teeth, blow dry my hair. I change into a dark red long sleeved shirt, and skinny jeans. I roll up the ends of my jeans so they are half way up my shins. I put on converse and a black infinity scarf. I clean up our room a bit. Finally I tie up my hair into a messy bun, not even caring what it looks like. I look in the mirror to check my outfit. Crap. There is a huge blueish black bruise on my right cheek bone. I cover it up with makeup, then I realize, that is a clue to find the person who attacked me last night. If the bruise is on my right cheek, they must be left handed. That narrows the suspects down a bit. I faintly remember the person punching with their left hand.
I squat down onto our gross colored carpet and gently shake Peyton awake. She doesn't wake up. I shake harder, she starts to stir but goes still again. I shake harder.
"Peyton, wake up!" I say.
"Peyton?" Slap her. She groans. Again.
"Mmmmmmm." She groans. I see a bottle of water on my dresser. I grab it, unscrew the lid and dump the whole bottle on her face. She opens her eyes and sits up, shocked and probably confused about why she is wet.
"What was that for?" She asks irritated. I roll my eyes.
"Come on, time to get up."
"You woke me up for that?" I roll my eyes and pull her to her feet.