Not What it Seems

The pain in my kneecap sharpened unbearably, and I heard myself screaming, as if from a distance. A slap on my face jolted me to reality. " Kyle! Focus through the pain dammit! Get up and run. Now!," my mentor Jeffrey's gruff voice demanded. My vision grew sharper as I wiped the tears off my face, ignoring the pain to the best of my abilities. I twisted around so that I was in a push-up position and used my good leg, along with my arms to push myself up.

I limped heavily. My knee felt odd, as if it wasn't really there and the pain was beginning to ebb away. I had more important things to focus on. I had to get away as fast as I could. My life was at stake. I rubbed my hands together in an attempt to calm myself. My hands were shaking, and worked hard to control my breathing. In. Out. In. Out.

I squinted through the darkness. It was hard to see anything. I could barely see the silhouette of Jeffrey, who was almost 100 paces ahead of me by now. I continued in his general direction, my breath coming in gasps. I knew I just had to make it to the car and everything would be okay.

It was past midnight. The faux toy store had long since closed, as had all the stores surrounding it. If worse came to worst, there was no one around to call for help. No one to hear me scream. I shrugged the thought away. I was tough. I had to be. The CIA had assigned me my most important mission yet and there was no way I was failing.

I had no idea where my attacker was. There shouldn't have been anyone in the store in the first place. But as I'd long since learned, nothing ever goes as planned. He'd crept up from behind me just as I'd been about to leave. I'd hit him on the head with a metal toy train, and he'd fallen. It wasn't enough. I knew he'd get back up. I'd been given orders not to kill him by my superiors, so there was nothing to be done about that. They didn't have enough evidence that the toy store was just a cover for a vicious gang that attacked young women. The tapes I hugged to my chest would fix that.

I smiled grimly to myself. The sick bastard and his boss were going down. No one attacked the women in my city and got away with it.

A hand grabbed my shoulder, its presence rough and unwelcome. I whirled around and saw the large man in his jean jacket pointing a gun at me. "Ha, ha," he snickered his voice rich with smugness. He had gotten up sooner than expected. I should've hit him harder but my knee had been killing me. "I've got you now. You're going to find out exactly what happens to little girls who mess with-"

The fear I'd felt earlier was gone. My knee was forgotten. The only thing that was left was me and my attacker. I straightened my back slowly as my training kicked in. I used all of my strength and punched him in the stomach. I heard a sickening thud as my fist plowed into him and grinned to myself. Ammature. He obviously used his brute strength to scare people and didn't have any actual technique. As soon as he doubled over I grabbed his wrist and, in one deft movement, broke it. The gun fell, and I snatched it up, my knee groaning in protest.

Now that the immediate danger was gone the world came rushing back to me. I picked up the tapes, ignoring his screams.I hadn't even realized I'd dropped them. He yelled at me again, his voice made high with pain. I shot the gun over his head in an attempt to scare him. He didn't know about my orders. With one last desperate burst of speed, I limped over to the blue Toyota waiting for me by the road and pulled the door open before climbing in.

The car sped off immediately, and I was high-fived by my younger brother. His blue eyes twinkled with excitement and I noted how tightly he gripped the steering wheel. "Good job," I told both my mentor and brother, and Jeffrey turned around from the passenger seat to give me that brilliant smile of his. The one I rarely saw but, when I did, it gave me an insurmountable feeling of happiness.

"Right back at ya," Jeffrey said. "I'm proud you persevered despite your knee."

"What's wrong with her knee," Nate twisted around to face me. His eyes were solemn with worry.

"Just a little muscle tear. I'll need crutches for a few weeks but I'll live." The car swerved violently and I yelped. "Nate! Keep your eyes on the road."

Jeffrey's cell crackled, and he pressed talk. "Mission complete," he spoke into it before tossing it out the window.

As soon as I got home, I bypassed my room for my bathroom. I had found a pair of crutches in the closet from when my brother sprained his ankle, and they had proven to be very useful in getting upstairs. Before I got my damaged knee checked out I needed a bath. Desperately.

I'll admit it right now and get everything out in the open. I'm a bath addict. I can't go a day without having one, however, if you had a bath like mine you'd understand. It was an antique claw foot tub that reached nearly six-feet long and three-feet wide. I filled it with steaming hot water and poured in a cup of vanilla bath salts and a half-cup of red rose petals. Good for the body AND the soul.

After a mission that involved my hiding in a dumpster for 18 hours the smell of things was important to me too. So, I lit three vanilla-rose candles and placed them on the bathroom counter. After inhaling deeply, I undressed and sunk into the tub, feeling content for at least the moment. I was finally safe.

I stayed that way for about an hour, until the water got too cold to bear. I braided my hair in a side braid because when it dries it turns into a frizzy, uncontrollable mess. I then pulled on a floral summer dress, pink ballet flats, and smeared on some lip gloss. If you haven't guessed by now, when I'm not training or on a mission, I'm what you would call a girly girl.

I wasn't always this way. In fact, when I was younger I was your average tomboy. I was most comfortable in sneakers and a t-shirt. Four years ago, though, I was given a mission where I had to distract the criminal by pretending I lost my mommy. It was a mission I could relate to because I had lost both my parents to God a few months before that. I found I actually liked the sweet, girly outfit I had been given to become my character, and I never switched styles.

It's kind of ironic if you think about it. Here I am, a 5 foot 2 inches tall girl dressed in pink, yet, not two hours ago, I had shot a gun near a man. If only I could find it funny.

I groaned to myself. I was always so sore after missions. With the usage of my crutches, I made it downstairs to the kitchen and got a bag of ice for my knee.

My brother walked in and I appraised him quickly. He had no injuries, thank god. But then again today he had only been my getaway driver- what did I think would happen to him. I worried anyway. He frowned at my knee. "Does it hurt?," he asked.

" A bit," I replied. "I'll survive," I added when I noticed his concerned expression.

" Yeah, well, Jeffrey wants to talk to us. The CIA assigned us another mission."

"Already," I said, feeling shocked. Normally we wouldn't get another mission for at least three weeks.

"I don't think they'll give us a hard one." I followed Noah into the living room where Jeffrey was sitting on the coach. He was leaning against the coffee table his face in his hands, and I froze.

I had only seen him cry one time in my entire life, at my parents funeral. Something must be horribly wrong. I hobbled over to him, " Jeff, what is it?" I nearly screamed. I had to admit it. I was panicking. Then I asked more gently, " What's wrong?"

He looked at me, his brown eyes wet with tears and sighed. "It's fine kids. I knew this would happen one day. You have been given another assignment. One that I am too old to be useful for."

I couldn't imagine him being too old for anything. He'd been put in charge of my sibling and I when he was eighteen. It was a year after my parents died. He was only five years older than me and could definitely still kick ass. His body was toned from training every day, and he could beat me in a fight. Every time.

"Jeffrey, what is it?" Noah asked quietly.

"High-school kids. Your next mission is high-school."

So yeah. I tried to keep this chapter short so it wasn't overwhelming. I know it appears like an action story and it is. However, there'll be a lot of romance too. I hope you guys liked it. Also I love being critiqued! Be as harsh as possible because it's the only way my story will get better. If it sucks, please tell me!