Do you know what it feels like to have the fate of the entire world resting upon your shoulders?
No. I suppose you don't.
I am the one who has to bear that burden.
For you, life consists of eating, sleeping, playing, going to school, making friends. When you're older, you get a job, get married and have some kids so they can start the whole cycle over again.
At least, that's what life used to be like.
Then horrible, fiendish creatures began to crawl up from under the earth. It was January 5th, 2010, in the middle of the worst winter California had ever seen when Hell broke loose.
Literally.
I was only thirteen when this catastrophe hit.
In fact, it was my thirteenth birthday.
But I wouldn't get to enjoy it, or even to live the rest of my life regularly, because even humans had been changed to adapt to this frightening new world.
Seven new…breeds of humans appeared all over the world. They seemed to follow certain bloodlines that had been intertwined over the years, and each seemed to originate from a certain area.
The Amazons are from Hawaii.
The Barbarians are from Russia.
The Paladins are from China.
The Necromancers are from Africa.
The Sorceresses are from Italy.
The Druids are from Brazil.
The Assassins are from France.
They were supposed to protect us from this evil.
But they didn't.
I heard rumors about small skirmishes, but it was nothing at all major, nothing that would make a dent in the inescapable darkness we all ran from. So when my school hired some Rouges to come and protect us, I thought nothing of it, thought nothing of them, even though I could see the hope that was rekindled in my peers' eyes.
We were told to be thankful. We were told to be grateful that they had come at all. But I could see that they were just as lost as we were.
The Captain, Kashya-she hid it the best. Kashya, with her scarlet cape and tall boots and fiery temper was hiding it with cruel words and vicious slurs. Charsi -the blacksmith of the Rouges- hid her fear and her loss with smiles and cheerful flips of her long blonde hair.
I liked Charsi's way better.
The one who seemed most faithless was, ironically, their High Priestess, Akara. With a purple robe that nearly smothered her in its folds, she looked frail, old, and weak. She had the haunted look of a woman who had lost everything.
The others, Warriv and Gheed, they seemed very naïve, as if they weren't quite sure as to what had happened, and the Rouges that followed Kashya were emotionless, cold to it all.
It was the 17th of January when they arrived, 12 days after the first wave of demonic creatures appeared, but by then it was too late.
Zombies and quill rats had already begun to infiltrate the boundaries of the school. Bus drivers carried knives with them, but mostly they just drove fast to escape the monsters. Even once the Rouges got here, the problem was still not resolved. Still the creatures attacked us, and still we hid.
One Rouge was assigned to each bus as a way to keep us students safe. Since my school was a 6th-8th school, many parents had withdrawn their children from school-my parents, thinking I was safe enough as a 7th grader, had not.
That was how I happened to be on bus 46 with my friends Beth, Daina, and Dominick when we were attacked.
Our Rouge was named Aliza. She fought valiantly, yes, but this swarm of monsters was more powerful than the norm. Arrow after arrow she shot, but only one of the blue-green zombies fell.
When her quiver was empty, she fought them hand to hand with the undying determination of one who has been trained to fight for all her life, but it still wasn't long before she went down.
I watched her fall, watched as the wretched creatures beat her until she was nothing more than a bloodied pulp of a body lying on the ground.
I just watched.
It was then that I looked up beyond the sight of Aliza's corpse and I saw the terrible army that watched towards us. All I could see was that army filled with creatures that only belonged in nightmares, and the demon at its front, that grotesque demon with fire for hair and four claws at its back.
They were far enough away that they still looked small, but I was sure they could see us, sitting here in our conspicuous yellow school bus.
I told the driver to hurry and he did. The rest of the ride I comforted my friends, telling them repeatedly that it was going to be okay. In some distant part of my brain, I heard a voice whisper that I was still playing the mother, still acting as if they were mine to hold.
We arrived only 5 minutes before the army. I ran to Akara and told her exactly what I had seen. When I got to the part about the fire-haired demon, her face went white and she whispered a word that I didn't yet understand-but soon it would be the word that I dreaded and feared more than any other in the world.
"Andariel."
She called for Kashya, who immediately organized a tactful retreat. The Rouges would hold the school for as long as possible, giving the rest of us time to flee. They all went to their positions, and the rest of us went to leave.
Instead I stayed, and stood at the ready by the front door. Kashya seemed about to protest and to force me back, but then something came knocking on the door. Four symmetrical knocks, one in each corner of the front door's corners.
"Come out and fight me, cowards."
The voice was horrible, rasping, burned dry. It was the kind of voice that whispered doubts into your head, made you insane, made you suicidal
It was the voice only a demoness could hold.
"I can smell you, all poor little Rouges, so lost, so powerless…Do you really think you can face me, Andariel, Maiden of Anguish herself? Have you forgotten so swiftly what I did to your sisters? Don't you remember how I ripped them limb from limb, tore them apart right in front of your very eyes?" Her laugh is dark, filled with an uncontrolled power and a lust for blood. I see the women around me visibly weaken.
"Oh, you silly Rouges. I am going to enjoy murdering you. I-what's this?" I heard a claw scrape against the thin medal of the door, creating a rut through which I could see the bare flesh of Andariel's waste. She leant down, and her great red eye peered in at me.
"Now you are not a Rouge. What are you-their pet? A sacrifice? I wonder what you taste like…"
Unwillingly, a tendril of fear slid down my spine and my breathing shallowed. Her eye held me in its gaze, and I was paralyzed. As I stared into those pools of blood, swirling with insanity, I felt haunted, and that moment would last with me until my dying day.
Then she cackled once more and ripped the front door from its hinges.
The Rouges automatically began shooting at her, but it did nothing but further infuriate the raging demoness.
She roared, and I cringed against the wall as I took in the sight of Andariel. At her ankles and wrists the pale flesh tapered off into ferocious claws with yellowed talons at the end of reddened scales. Only a small loincloth adorned her body, and even that seemed about to slide off her narrow hips. All of her exposed skin was scarred and pockmarked with memories of battles gone by. In between her bare breasts was a hole edged by dried blood where some warrior had struck home, but failed to kill the monstrous beast.
Her hair rose, flaming, above her head and even without the twisting, coiling locks, she was easily ten feet tall. But it wasn't her height or her talons or even the devilish look she wore on her face that frightened me-it was those pincers.
They leered at me, hung over my head with a menacing scowl. Bulbous and blood stained, they commanded attention with snapping claws. It was as if they had minds of their own and those minds hungered for blood and the taste of flesh.
I was paralyzed until I felt a spot of warmth splatter onto my chest. Looking down, I saw red drops of blood that was not mine drip from my white blouse down to the black of my skinny jeans. Lifting a piece of black hair from my face, I let my deep green eyes rise to the sight of one of those terrifying pinchers smiling above my face. The sounds of battle reached my ears. I glanced around, and saw Rouges falling with gaping wounds weeping blood.
Twin blades slid from my sleeves. I fastened each katar, and began to fight for the lives of those around me.
My name is Jenna Pederson.
I am a thirteen year old Assassin.
It is up to me to save this world.
So i don't know if anyone reading this cares but i don't know if i should continue on with this story...if you have any opinion, tell me in a review 'cuz i'm not sure myself.