The Hunter

No, No, No

Block . . . block . . . kick . . . punch . . . fall. 

Damn it! I jumped up to my feet and tried again. 

Punch and miss . . . block and kick . . . block the wrong move and fall again.  

"Hmm, what's wrong with you today Emily?" Shane asked, standing over me. He was right to ask. I had fallen more times in this one training session than I had in the past six months. Yet, in my current position I could find any anger.  

Shane's handsome face just inches from mine was not a thing to be complaining about. His bright blue eyes looked onto me full of worry, while I stared back in a dreamy manner. That was until something in my gut twisted painfully and I had to look away. 

"My period?" I tried, even though that had stopped days ago. 

"Are you asking me or telling me?" Shane quipped, still standing over me. I could hear the playfulness in his voice clearly. The guy always flirted back, but this time I couldn't, I had totally lost the want to even mess with him.  

"Telling, I should get up." Shane held his hand out to me and easily lifted my body off the ground. "Thanks," I mumbled.  

"What's really wrong?" He asked, crossing his arms over his chest. He looked onto me through narrowed eyes, telling me that lying was not an option.  

I tried anyways, "I'm just tired, I swear."  

Shane shook his head, obviously not believing me, "Just go rest," he sighed, thankfully giving up on me for the moment.  

I walked over to the opposite side of the room and laid down on the mat, listening to everyone grunt and moan as they trained. 

In all reality I was a mess and had been since the night I killed for the first time. I couldn't get rid of the guilty stomach and I was sad, like severe depression sad. My whole body was sore constantly and I couldn't keep anything down. I had been home a week and I had thrown up almost every meal I tried to keep down.  

I had to hide my messed up state from my father, who was extremely pleased by my first kill mission. He thankfully didn't have all the details about it. He still gave me a ton of shit for being too slow or too weak but it had died down a tiny bit. He hadn't given us any sort of mission since we had been home, but that would be changing soon.  

I overheard him and my mom speaking when I was supposed to be sleeping. He apparently has something big planned for me and my two friends, and I knew it was big because he said he was getting the funds together. We had a ton of money, so if he had to get more money, then it was definitely a big mission. And of course he was giving it to me.  

I was dreading the day he called me with a new mission. I wasn't some super awesome hunter, I had accidently got made and had to defend myself. It was either him or me, and I got lucky. The worst part was that I had a feeling that he knew all that. I had this awful feeling that he knew I wasn't ready, knew I had only gotten lucky, and was still going to be sending me on bigger and harder missions. I truly believed that my father was out to kill me. Then again, maybe it was just teen angst.  

The only thing I could do to help myself was train harder, become a better fighter, and keep myself alive until I could get the hell out of here. I was doing great until I started feeling like complete shit. Now I was a puddle of a person who could barely make it through the day. I couldn't figure out what was wrong with me but I needed to, I needed to fix whatever the problem was before my father sent me away again. I refused to die under my father's order, and if I didn't get a grip, I surely would.  

"On the mats again?" Web's voice filtered through my brain.  

I opened my eyes and turned my head towards his voice. Web stood over me with a white fast food bag in one hand and coke in the other. He wasn't in his training gear, but instead in jeans and a fashionable t-shirt. "Why are you here if you aren't training?" I snapped as embarrassment came over me regarding his question.