I'm a Seventeen-year-old Assassin [ON HOLD]

I'm a Seventeen-year-old Professional Assassin Working for the Government. [22]

I lied in bed, straight on my back, eyes fixed on the ceiling. Ben was really dead, did this mean that this was finally over?

Connor came back in the room, from the cafeteria, not looking so relaxed. Swore, then said something in German.

I sat up, "Whats going on?" 

Connor paced back and forth in front of my bed. He talked fast and I only caught glimpses of what he was saying."They're here/ didn't think they find us/ how/ how will I get her out of here/ I love her"

"Connor!" I said, straining my voice, "What's going on?" I repeated.

"They're here!" He said, putting his hands on the rails at the end of my bed "They found us"

"Who's they?" I felt so lost, my head hurt, I put my hand on it, clenching my nails down on my skin

"Garret" He said, plainly "They're here, for you"

"Me? Why? Ben's dead, this is over"

Connor walked around the side of my bed and took me by the shoulder "Rylie. This is far from over. The authorities think that you tried to assassinate the president. Without reveling to the nation the truth about Rosewood College they're just stying that your a Russian spy who snuck in"

"Seriously?"

He nodded.

"Russian spy? Come on, look at me, any tanner and I be African/American!"

His sarcastic smile dripped "No time for joking we have to get you out of here without being seen!"

Just then a nurse, entered the room with a janitor, talking about a toilet system. Connor nonchalantly walked up to the pair of them, hit the nurse in the face and head-butted the janitor. He pulled them into the supply closet emerging with the nurses jacket, the janitors glasses and a product in his hair that splayed it across his eyes.

"Hot!" I commented.

He didn't look impressed, quickly ripping a sheet off the bed next to mine. He held it over me "Remember Mr. Conjack's class, don't breath, or move when your cover is at stake."

"Yeah, we had to not breath for 14 minutes"

Connor smiled, "Welcome to your final" He draped the sheet over me, "Play dead. You move and I'll kick you ass" he pushed the bed across the room. I sucked into one long concentrated breath, closing my eyes I focused on lights. Purple/ red/ green, dancing in front of my eyes, the moved out far and contracted, the movement of my lungs mentally. It helped me to deal with the whole not-breathing-thing.

I felt hot lights move over me, then nothing, then hot light again. I knew that we were being wheeled down a corridor, the direction wasn't certain to me. We stopped, I herd a small bell chime as he pressed the button for the elevator.

Waiting

Not breathing

Waiting

Not breathing,

Another small bell chime, and some mechanical scraping. "Oh sorry well move out of your way" Came a familiar voice, Garret.

"Yes, thank-you, have to get going, so tragic." Connor replied in a nasal voice.

There were several sets of shuffling footsteps, that grew longer as they moved quicker when they were out of our way. They faded into the distance of the corridor. Some more wheeling, mechanical stretching. Then a huge sigh from Connor.

"Nice touch with the voice" I said from under the sheet.

"Thanks" he said.

"So what's the plan when we get down stairs?" There was a long still silence as the elevator moved through the floor of the hospital. "Connor?" I prompted, "The plan?"

He finally answered "I'm working on it..."