Lies | ✔️

Chapter 1 | My Life

Chapter 1 | My life

"You're lucky enough to be different, never change" -Taylor Swift

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LIES - My life was filled with them. My name, my family background, everything. Sometimes I even start to question, aren't I a lie? Almost every sentence that roll off my tongue is a perfect lie, carefully crafted by my skillful mind, taught to lie since I was young.

Nobody knows my real identity. They have all been lied to. In their eyes, I was just a normal teenage girl who kept a low identity before disappearing from school the next term. Yes, I have switched schools uncountable times as soon as I felt dark danger looming over me like dark ominous clouds hovering in my mind, as if warning me of something.

My parents' dead bodies lay before me in 2 coffins placed neatly side by side. My mom's and my dad's. Everything was painted white in the funeral. The walls, the tiles. People clad in white shirts stood around solemnly, muttering prayers while others sobbed in a corner, grieving their heartfelt loss and pain.

I stood in front of the coffins, tears brimming in my eyes as I recalled how they painfully brought me up all these years. I was fifteen then, three years ago. Standing there with tears flowing down my cheeks, I used my hand to wipe the tears off my cheeks, forcing myself to be strong.

An accident. A tragic incident. That's what was told and we were forced to believe that it had killed my parents. Sometimes I even wonder what was the point of living without them, without someone to keep encouraging me, without someone who gave me unwavering support, without someone who kept pushing me on, telling me that I could pull through.

Sometimes I question the meaning of life. What had I done to deserve this? Although 'an accident' label was placed on my family's death, I knew deep in my bones that there was more to 'the accident' of my their death.

We were murderers. We all were.

Trained since young by a group of people, we were forced to be murderers, to work for them. They had my brother in their hands and promised that they would treat him well if we promised to work for him our entire lives.

"We need you." That's what they claimed. "All you have to do is kill those people we sent you kill. No questions. No answers. If not, he's dead."

Till date, they still had him captive, meaning I still had to work for them in order for my brother to survive. They promised a phone call from my brother once I had completed each mission I was told.

We were not the only family going through this phases- kidnapping, threatening then success in recruiting new members to kill. We didn't know who they were. We all just had a scar hidden at the top part of our arm, burned deep inside by the boss of this 'killing'. Till date, the light swelling and dull ache could still be felt from time to time, causing my to squeeze my eyes tight. Both from the pain and in the attempt to divert my attention away from the scar. The memories.

Snapping back to reality, I was on the training grounds that Boss Jimmy asked us to train everyday at. Familiar white mats lined the wooden floor, providing us protection lest we fell. White walls filled the room, reminding us of the cold and emptiness we felt inside.

Throwing punches and kicks, I trained hard with the mannequins and dummies. Sweat had already dotted my skin and my knuckles were sore from the direct impact. Rubbing them in vain attempt to reduce the pain, I brushed that thought away, forcing myself to continue punching.

After spending another 30 minutes punching, I moved on to weapons. Guns. My favourite. Name any gun you could think of and believe me, I've tried them before.

Already sweating profusely, I practiced tirelessly in front of dartboards and at the designated spots for shooting on the training grounds. Squinting my eyes, I focused hard on the dartboard before releasing the trigger. Bullseye.

Imagine it's your enemy, then shoot. That's what Boss Jimmy always said.

Trust me, it's not that easy. That was not even enough to train us. We had special rooms that we can use as a practise for the real situation that we'd face during our missions. Wiping away the sweat on my face with the back of my scarred hands, I breathed heavily. Heading for the wooden bench, I hastily scooped up my water bottle before pouring it down my thirsty throat.

Resting for a few minutes, I walked towards a room prepared to resemble an office. I was supposed to kill one of the many mannequins within 8 minutes of entry without triggering any alarm.

It may seem simple, but it was filled with booby traps. Ranging from strings to unforeseen guns hidden away, it forced us to be alert.

Grabbing the guns from the shelf which was in front of the room, I placed it in my gun holder, frowning with determination as I pressed the button to activate the room before stepping inside. I could do this. I told myself. I have practiced this with other similar rooms.

I walked in, alert and careful to avoid any CCTV cameras. Those were the most common forms of danger from my past experiences. The walls around me were all painted white as usual as office carpet lined the floor. Frowning, I continued to walk around slowly, eyes darting form left to right every second as I took note of every nook and cranny detail of the office. Desks were neatly organized before me and panels were placed at places where I could seek temporary escape.

Shuffle shuffle.

What was that? My heart raced against my heart as sweat formed on my palms. Pressing my back against the wall, I took in deep breaths, trying to calm myself down. Slowly peering out from behind the wall, I saw three mannequins standing around the tables, as if discussing about some work. Eyes scanning and flickering over them, I came to realize one of them had a red button flashing on its head.

The red button.

That was the mannequin I had to kill.

After scanning through countless strategies of an attack, I decided on open attack as it seemed like the best strategy. Sliding to the left from behind the wall, I aimed my gun at them and starting shooting rapidly, swinging my gun from side to side. The two robots seemed to be caught unaware as they fell to the ground, a pool of blood surrounding their bodies. However, the red one seemed to sense me as he dodged bullets, releasing fake bullets from his arm at me.

Reacting fast, I dodged behind some desks as I poked my head out to shoot. Bullets from my gun flew and hit him on the stomach but he was still alive. It then dawned on me after my brain slowly processed what was happening before me. He was wearing a bullet vest. The only way to kill it was to hurt him physically.

Cursing silently to myself, I picked up a nearby chair as I held it in front of me, shielding my face as I ran in the direction of the mannequin, screaming as I shoved it in his body, making him tumble over.

Bingo.

Running towards him and pushing the chair slightly aside, I starting throwing punches to his cheek and I kicked him in the groin. Picking up the chair again, I slammed it against his chest with all my strength as I watched red crimson blood spill from his body...

This was what I had to do everyday.

Office practice mission completed.

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