How to Raise an Assassin

CHAPTER 29: I FAIL TO PULL THE TRIGGER

On my seventh birthday, I made my first kill. It was a family tradition in my house. My siblings knew it. Noa knew it when he looked at me and forced a smile knowing he hated that my parents were making me go through with this. It was the confirmation ritual of an assassin, especially in my family. You learned to kill at such a young age that it seemed like second nature to you when you went out into the field. Pulling a trigger should be like breathing. Stabbing a knife should be like walking. Snapping a neck should be like stretching.

After my first kill, I was traumatized. I locked myself in my room. I didn't come out for the rest of Christmas break, since my birthday was on January 4th. My parents barely checked up on me while they were busy with new year contracts to complete. I was left mostly to myself until Noa came knocking after three days of not seeing me.

"Zay, can I come in?"

I didn't want to see anyone, not even my beloved older brother. How could my parents allow me to do that? Why hadn't any of my siblings warned me, especially Noa? I trusted him.

I took too long to respond. He jimmied the lock on the door. In a house full of assassins, locks were useless.

"Zay, how are you feeling?" He asked.

"Go away," I muttered hiding beneath my blankets.

Lucky for me, he didn't listen to me. He shut the door and walked over to my bed and sat on it. He chuckled. "You know, if you're trying to beat my record of days locked in your room after your first kill, you're going to have to stay here another month."

A month? I thought. He stayed locked in his room for a month, missing school and life. I couldn't imagine ever doing that. My parents would find a way to drag me out.

Perhaps they learned from their experience with Noa.

"The old mannequin trick," Noa muttered. "At least you hit your target. You graced him with a quick goodbye."

"I killed him!" I shouted while throwing off my covers. Then I launched a fury of punches on his back that was probably a massage compared to the tough training he was receiving lately. "You didn't warn me!"

Noa didn't say a word. He sat there as my punching bag, allowing me to release all of my fury. I couldn't see his face, but his head was down almost like he was mourning the loss of something important to him.

When I had tuckered out, I sat back in bed and crossed my arms in defiance. "All this time, our family were a bunch of killers and you didn't tell me. We're the bad guys."

Noa sighed without looking at me. "Yes, we are Zay. We're the bad guys."

I expected a speech to explain how what we do was good and fine. It's definitely what my father or mother would've done. But Noa, he was real, and by the sound of his voice, he wasn't really fond of our family either.

"I tried to shield you from this," Noa admitted. He turned to face me. "But mom and dad wouldn't have it. All of us are meant to take up the mantle of the assassin, at least until we're 18."

My parents were of the belief of offering us an out after so many years of killing. But I didn't think it was possible to escape from a reality you've known your entire life. One cannot simply go from murdering people to working at a corporate America office job eight hours a day without some heavy baggage attached.

My oldest brother Ka was the guinea pig. He opted to go full-time assassin. He didn't enter into university like Lay would end up doing while keeping her part-time job as a contract killer.

Deep down, I knew Noa tried his best to save me from this life. But his effort wasn't good enough; and I felt betrayed that he had failed. If I could go back in time, I would uncross my arms and hug him, thanking him for caring enough to try.