Trained To Kill

Prologue

 

I slide on my J’s and get ready to slip out of the house. I check the clock anxiously, and it reads 2:43 A.M.

 Shit I’m gonna be late.

 “Karma?” A small voice says behind me. I turn and see a crack of light peeking through my 6 year sister’s bedroom door.

 “Kaya, what are you still doing up??” I quietly walk over to her and pick her up.

 “Where are you going?” She says sleepily. I lay her down in her twin bed and pull the covers over her.

 “Don’t worry about it. I’ll be back when you wake up, alright? And Dad doesn’t need to know about this, got it?”

 She nods, but I can see that she’s worried about me. I kiss her forehead and promise that she’ll have sweet dreams and that there’s really nothing to worry about and that her big sis is seventeen and is practically an adult, so she knows what she’s doing.

 Now I’m definitely gonna be late. I silently curse myself for stopping. I can’t help it though. Family is really the only thing I got.

 I stow out and rush onto the New York streets. I turn a few corners and go down a few alley ways and meet up with my crew. “Ayeee K-Money! You’re late!” My friend Zachary says when he sees me and everyone turns around. I’m immediately offered a cigarette but I decline.

 “Aw come on don’t be a pussy.” A girl named… Shay, I think, says, causing everyone to laugh.

 Zach wraps his arm around my shoulders and pulls me in, harshly kissing me on the mouth. He tastes like alcohol and stale cigarettes. “Aye don’t talk to my girl like that.” He says to her and she sucks her teeth and rolls her eyes. “I’m not your girl, Z.” I shrug his arm off my shoulder.

 “I know you wanna be, though.” He smirks at me. “K-Money don’t-“

 “Stop calling me that dumb-ass nickname.” I cross my arms. Yes, these are my friends. I only started hanging out with them this current school year. Why? Cuz hanging out with them has benefits. First of all, you don’t get called a ‘goodie-goodie’, like I have been ever since I started high school. Second of all, nobody fucks with you. We’re the trouble makers. The people who jump you if we hear you talkin’ shit.

And the most important reason is you get money. We shoplift, rob people on the streets, sell the stuff we take, get paid to pass drugs every now and then, the list goes on. Best thing is, we don’t get caught. Something having to do with Zach’s uncle. Everytime we’re caught on camera’s or something, he calls him and ‘takes care of it.’ How he does it, we don’t exactly know. Not even Zachary.

Ever since my dad lost his job, I've had to take matters into my own hands so we could make ends meet. The last thing we needed was for my dad to get involved in some stupid druggie shit and get arrested and then me and my sister would be shipped off to foster homes, considering how we don’t have any other family.

 “Now that she’s here, let’s go!” Someone in the group says. I think it’s the boy with the two long braids. I have yet to learn everyone’s name.

 We peek around the corner and try to find someone who looks like they have money and is alone. We find this lady and Zach pulls a gun out of his pants. We don’t actually kill people, the gun is bluff. At least, I think it is. I’m not sure if Zach would shoot a person or not.

 Shay says the magic word and we all run out to her at once, taking her fur coat and grabbing her purse and searching her pockets all while Z holds the gun to her head yelling at her to shut the fuck up and get to the ground. I feel bad, but if there’s one important thing I’ve learned from hanging out with this crew is to push your feelings aside and focus on what’s important. What’s important right now is getting what we need.

 “Freeze!” Someone that I can’t see yells and everyone runs in the opposite direction. I’m not a slow runner, but I trip over the lady’s arm, scraping my knee in the process. Next thing I know I’m being yanked up by my arm. Caught by the fucking police. I grumble to myself. What am I gonna do now? The look of disappointment on my dad’s face is going to crush me.

 However, it’s not the police.

 Before I can really see their face, a black bag is thrown over my head and I’m knocked out cold.

 --

My eyes burn when the bag is rapidly removed and I’m exposed to harsh light. The dude who took the bag off stands in front of me with this look of shock on his face. I study his appearance. He’s got on all black, a simple black t-shirt that’s very fitting and black jeans. He has golden skin and his hair is a curly afro. He’s got a little mustache barely showing. His bare arms have little muscles, but not that large. As for his height, he looks about or 6’1 or 6 even.  He can’t be no older than 19. 18, maybe.

 A big black dude pushes him aside and bends down to get eye level with me. “Hello, Karma.”

 I look around, panicked. It’s an all-white room with no windows whatsoever, and no door in sight. Where the hell-

 “Karma.” The big black dude snaps in my face, getting my attention again. “How is your head?”

 I’m breathing too hard to answer him. He shines this light in each one of my eyes. He puts his hand on the side of my face and tilts it, as if he’s checking out a wound or something. I must have a bump on my head. I would reach out and feel it, but my hands are tied behind me and I’m sitting in a metal chair. My feet are tied as well.

 “She’s good. Take her with the rest.” He says and exits the room through a door that blends in with the walls.

 The curly-haired dude is still looking at me in shock. I’m too stunned and scared to do or say anything. He quickly shakes his expression off and leans down to begin untying my feet.