Run.
That's the only word in your mind when you get in the door of your house. It's so suffocating in here. You wish you could go to Carly's, but that's where you just came from there and it would be awkward anyway, with her giggly about her Freddie kiss and you sitting there with a smile pasted on; I'm happy for you, Carls, it's so great that you two liplocked, but can you please keep it to a minimum because I am going crazy listening to you.
You don't even recognize the feeling until it hits you like a brick wall. Jealousy. It's not like you actually have romantic feelings for the nub. Or maybe you do. Who's sure anymore? But now the next iCarly is going to be a joke. Carly will stand there telling the audience about their relationship and then you'll stand there artificially like the third wheel you are now. How can she do that and then do something like Let's Break Stuff or Happy Baby, Sad Baby so casually? You don't know.
You fall onto your bed, inhaling the smell of dryer sheets and ham and that sandwich from last week, and your mom screams at you to get her ice cream and pork chops the next time you leave. You ignore her, favoring the sound of the rain outside to her voice. In fact, you still don't want to be here. So you grab some money in case you get hungry and then you are out of there.
----
Running has never been hard for you. You don't know why. A million things and nothing at all are both trying to occupy your mind (can nothing occupy a space? you still don't know) and it's not doing much for your sense of direction. The rain is coming down in sheets now and you stop, pausing to flip your hair out of your face, catch your breath, and get acquainted with your surroundings (like a good Assassin always is) and fuck, you're back at Bushwell. You resign yourself to the powers that be and decide to go in.
You feel like running again, crashing through the doors soaking wet. Lewbert looks like he wants to kill you and starts yelling, but you're not hearing any of it. You head for the stairs and start sprinting, needing to get these feelings out of you before you get to Carly and suddenly you trip and fall. You curse, get up, and dry your feet on the next landing. You walk the rest of the way, feeling the effects of the last few hours or minutes or however long it's been since you were home. Your heart is pounding out a nervous rhythm in your throat.
You haven't forgotten about Assassin, so you strike a deal with the mailman, who looks a little curious as to your current condition, but you find a spare outfit of yours in a closet outside of Carly's apartment and then he looks less curious. You plan ahead for a lot of things, except for schoolwork.
As soon as you hear your cue, you swing down and deliver the fatal shot. Then, you jump down and celebrate. Spencer can be such a doof sometimes, but this game was fun. You ignore the twisting in your stomach and heart as you jump up and down.
Satisfaction is almost the only thing you feel, and that almost pleases you.