Struggles with the kill

Chapter 9

I'm sitting on my bed, with my phone in my hands. Steve told me it'd only take a day or two until he would call me and tell me to pack my stuff. To be very honest with you, I have my suitcase ready to go, the only thing that I need to get in that thing are some things I use on a daily basis. I'll throw those in a random bag when I go. 

Impatiently I look at my phone and try to make it ring. And so it does, I answer way too quick but I don't care "Yes?" I ask. "Woah, that was quick, were you waiting for a call?" I'm disappointed to hear Cameron, don't get me wrong, he's nice and all but I really need Steve to call me. I give a nervous laugh, "Well, I'm still waiting for Steve to call me so I can get the heck out of this damned house," I admit. 

He laughs, "Well, in that case I'll hang up right after you answered me," I make an absent noise in agreement and listen to what he needs to say. "So I was wondering, with the Homecoming coming up and all, if you would like to be my date?" I blink a few times and I'm silent for a while.

"Rose? Shit... I shouldn't have asked, I'm sorry," He says and I know he is about to hang up "No, Cameron, look listen. With everything that's going on the last thing on my mind is that Homecoming dance from our school so I was just a little disorientated. But I'd love to be your date." 

Do I? Rosalie Stephens, you are not going to trick this boy into thinking that you like him that way. You don't like him that way! But come on, it's just a dance, what could possibly result into that? "Really? Oh my god, thank you Rose! I guess I'll see you soon," He sounds so cheerful, it makes me happy.

"See ya," I say. Great, now what? I don't want to break his heart, I don't like him that way. He never said he actually like me. True that. I was about to drown myself in another fit of thoughts when my phone rang.

"Hey, it's Steve. You have two hours to get to the gym, because we are leaving then. If you are not here in time we'll leave without you."

        Within 45 minutes I find myself standing in front of the gym with my suitcase standing next to me. I push through the doors and bump into a grinning Steve, "Somebody can not wait to leave." I roll my eyes, but a smile creeps onto my face. "Well, you'll have to wait because the boys probably won't get here anytime soon. If you want to, you can do something in the training centre, choose whatever you like. I'll watch and maybe give some tips, if needed."

        I throw the knife at the target, I've never thrown knives before and I found out I really like to do it. Steve told me that combat skills are not only with guns but that knives, and such things, can also be a very good killer if you run out of bullets.

My knife hits the side of the neck of the target and Steve nods approvingly, "For a first time it not bad at all, little one."

I don't know what it is with that nickname, almost everybody in the Montaro gang calls me 'little one' even though I'm not small and I could take a lot of them hand to hand with ease. I like it, because it makes me feel protected, but I also don't, because I can protect myself well enough. I'm not weak. I'm stronger than I've ever been before.

"Try to throw with your whole body, lean into the direction, stretch your fingers and point them in the direction you want your knife to go," Says Steve and I have another try.

I straighten my posture and fix my vision at the heart of the dummy and close my hand over the handle and aim. I focus and make the swing with my arm. As I feel the force of my arm pull on my body I let my arm take lead and I lean forward. Then I feel the knife leave my fingers and all I can do is watch the knife fly straight at the target. The point of the knife drives into the flat surface, where the heart is supposed to be, and it stops and stays in the dummy with a loud thump.