Confessions of a Teenage Assassin

Chapter 1 - Backstabber. Literally.

Special thanks to ebook_mania for making the gorgeous cover. It's exactly how I imagined it to be.

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  How would you define the word: family.

  Of course, there are many meanings to many different people. But to me, I couldn’t think of anything positive to say even if a gun was held to my head and my life depended on it, literally.

  I was fifteen then, appearing normal, like every other teenager. Though I was hiding something, something dark and sinister, something I couldn’t share with anyone, not even my own mother. Because if I did, I’d surely get another beating, maybe even wind up dead.

  I often made excuses to stay over at friends’ and teachers’ instead of returning to my home, where that man lurked. The man who I was ashamed and terrified to call my father. My fear of him had grown so great I was scared to defy him; to speak up; to make a stand; to retaliate.

  He would force his way inside me almost every night ever since I was fourteen, using me, scarring me, and hurting me. If I so much as lifted one finger, it would earn me a vicious slap on the cheek. Purplish blue bruises scattered over every inch of my body, made me avoid looking at myself in the mirror while I was taking showers. Cuts dotted my face, made me lie to students and teachers about how I got them in the first place.

  I guess I concealed this secret very well, since no one suspected or questioned me. Though it didn’t wash away the pain and anger from my mind. I didn’t let it show, for my mother’s sake. She didn’t know and she couldn’t find out. I wanted her to go on believing that her husband was the best thing that ever happened to her.

  One night, just moments after my father left me, shivering and whimpering, I had closed my eyes and slowly drifted off when I felt a hand on my forehead. My first reaction was to panic, thinking it was my father coming again to humiliate me further but the hand made soothing circular motions and I then felt safe because I knew my mother was here with me. For a second, I wanted to open my eyes and spill out everything. Maybe beg her to believe me and call the police, or maybe even persuade her to run away with me. But I kept my eyes shut, enjoying this moment, while it lasted.

  ‘Aria, honey, are you feeling alright?’ she asked gently, her voice melodious and enticing. I liked the sound of it. It reminded me of the times when she used to sing to me. Her voice was beautiful, like bells tinkling, smooth and hypnotizing.

  ‘I’m fine, Mom.’ I replied, for the millionth time. There was nothing else to say.

  ‘That’s good. I’m just worried about you. You’ve been acting really strange for a while now. If there’s anything you want to talk about, you know you can talk to me, don’t you?’

  ‘Yeah, Mom, I know,’ I smiled bravely at her; thankful that it was dark and she couldn’t see my smile wavering and the tears welled up in my eyes. ‘Thanks.’

  ‘Not a worry, sweetie. I know you’re too old for this, but I just want you to know that I love you very much, Aria.’ She brushed a strand of hair off my face, and I fought the urge to burst into tears. I wanted to confide in my mother, I wanted her to know the truth, to get away from that horrible brutish monster. I wanted her to be safe. That wasn’t going to happen if she stayed with him.

  Then I made up my mind. I was glad to find that my voice sounded stronger, and more resolute than I felt. ‘Mom, there’s something I need you to…’

  Heavy footsteps echoed in the hallway and my lungs clenched and tightened, heart hammering my ribcage. My mind raced, had he heard me? Did he know that I was about to confess to my Mom?

  ‘What was that, honey?’ She wasn’t taking any notice of him approaching. Maybe she was really determined to hear me out tonight. I silently cursed myself for not speaking out earlier, now that I have lost the chance of revealing what a sick and twisted being he was. He wouldn’t do anything to me in front of my mother. He knew better than that.

  The door swung open, slowly, hinges creaking. I wondered if my mother could hear or feel my frantic heartbeat. Blood pounded in my ears and I found myself shaking under the covers, sweat drenching the sheets.

  Still she didn’t turn around.

  I could see him now, over my mother’s shoulder. His dark silhouette in the brightly lit hallway, I was struck by how tall and sturdy he appeared. Then my eyes flicked down to what he was holding in his hand. A knife. The blade caught the ceiling light and it left a permanent damage in my head.

  ‘Hm?’ my mother pressed on, still not addressing her husband. He didn’t move either. He only stood there, quietly observing us. I wondered what sick thoughts ran through his head at that precise moment, but nothing could prevent what happened next.

  It happened so fast and so suddenly I almost didn’t see him move. I still didn’t know if he ran or if he simply threw the knife. But the next thing I knew, my mother fell forward on me. I could never forget the sight of that knife stuck in her back.

  Plunged in so deep, only the hilt was visible in the gloom.

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