My brother's scream pierced the cold night air and I clung onto my notebook, willing my whimpers to subside as loud footsteps echoed down the hall. They were coming and I would die here without achieving anything, without anyone knowing, without anyone caring. That was the cold reality that consumed my every thought.
I wanted to run, to bolt from under the wooden table and hurl myself out of a window, alas, despite being on the third storey of the building, there was no window in my father's lab. I had no chance of survival. I was dead the moment that man had entered the threshold.
A pair of black combat boots stopped at the edge of the table and I held my breath, begging my shaking body to calm itself. A gloved hand grasped my hair and I screamed. Not in pain, my pain receptors had been numbed after the first year of experiments my father had carried out with my body. No, I was screaming out of fear as I was dragged out from under the table and dangled a few feet from the ground.
Terror paralysed my body like poison and my mind finally kicked into gear, assessing the intruder through wide, green eyes. He was cloaked from head to toe in a black combat suit and had bright blue eyes that impaled me with a sense of impending doom. His black hair was dishevelled, hanging limp over familiar features. His decievingly soft featured face was similar to my mother's and my own.
Death, the man reeked of blood. The metallic smell hit my face, causing me to choke on my own breath. The man seemed to be regarding me in the same predatory manner that my father would as he experimented. His eyes scanned my six-year-old body for any signs of danger, trying to decide if I was a threat or an easy kill. His actions were only natural in the business of assassination. You could tell from the way he moved that he was a seasoned assassin, young enough to control a fight but old enough to be wary of his opponent. He slowly lowered me to the ground.
I was only a child to him, a girl that had been used as an experiment for her father and a toy for her brother. In the end, that's what I always was. I watched him warily as he knelt down to reach my level and held out a hand expectantly.
"I was ordered to kill criminals..." his voice rumbled, slow and cautious as he spoke, "Not a child."
My heart held relief and respect as I dug my hand into the pocket of my blue pants, reaching for the object that the man wanted and that I had hidden away.I obediently pressed a black hard-drive against the man's gloved hands, surrendering the last remnants of my father's work and my own past without a second thought. It soon disappeared into the pockets of his vest and he nodded appreciatively.
"Good luck," he mumbled and disappeared from the house, taking with him the lives of my father and elder brother.
My knees went weak as soon as he left and I collapsed on the ground in a shivering mess. My arms were bare and a deathly pale, my eyes bloodshot and legs curled against my chest as I rocked gently on the wooden floorboards. I was free, no longer bound by the two males who had turned my existence into a curse. I would no longer have 2,000 volts of electricity passed through me for the sake of science or be woken with a kick to the stomach or sadistic laugh.
They were dead and I was free.
I, Karashi, was free.
--2 years later
I sprinted for the nearest exit, black backpack clinging to my small figure as I rocketed through the small forest that separated the orphanage from the city. Torch lights flashed through the tree foliage and I picked up my pace, scaling the chain link fence before anyone could catch me and drag me back to the irritatingly beige walls of my third orphanage this year.
I didn't stop running until the fruit shop came into view. My stomach growled viciously and I cursed myself for not eating enough before my grand escape. The shop was surprisingly still open although it was almost midnight and I quickly ducked inside, bringing out some cash and grabbing some peaches. Oh, how I love peaches.
The cashier raised a questioning eyebrow at the appearance of a scruffy looking eight-year-old and I shrugged at her unasked questions.
"Parents forgot dinner," I lied and made my way out of the shop with the hood of my navy-blue jumper drawn over my head
I wasn't too suspicious looking, I think. My ripped jeans were common and my trainers were comfortable enough to run in.
I was prepared this time. Yes, it was my third orphanage break-out this year. I was honestly surprised that they hadn't arrested me yet, but then again, I was only eight. Maybe I'd be sent to a psych ward next time, I thought with an evil grin. It would be reasonable considering the fact that every child I've met says that I'm mentally unstable and a freak.
Why am I talking about next time? I will never go back to the obnoxious, egotistical brats that inhabit orphanages. They had teased and taunted me in a pathetic attempt to gain a sense of superiority and dominance. Their lives depend on their social status and how others viewed them. Pathetic. I understood the overwhelming urge to prove yourself more than anyone but letting temptation control you was unthinkable.
I continued to trudge depressingly towards the public library. No one acknowledged me as I slipped inside and nestled in an alcove with the book on science that I had begun reading on the previous week's library trip, before my daring escape.
Hahaha, 'daring'. All I had done was make some smoke bombs, set of a fire alarm and run. I was about seven chapters through the book when the sun finally rose, waking me from my silent reverie. My insomnia was relatively controlled but my reading habits tended to encourage the lack of sleep. I sighed, shoes scuffing the concrete path of a car park as I rounded the corner of a building. My black hair hung low over my eyes, my hood up to block the cold wind that had begun to stir during the night.
The sun glowed faintly on the horizon of buildings, casting shadows over the streets and warming the city. A rough tug twisted my body sideways and I stumbled backwards, regaining balance as a raggedly dressed boy reached for me. Damn, here I was hoping to have a calm morning, I cursed and ducked away from the boy's fist. My last brawl in the orphanage came back to me in a rush as I swerved from the next attack, my mind kicking into gear as a surge of energy rushed through it.
There were three in total, all a few years older than me but thankfully unskilled. They were just as new to street fighting as I was. Despite my numerous orphanage escapes and history of being bullied, I was still inexperienced in combat. A girl came up from behind me and I dropped to the floor as she aimed a knockout punch that ended up hitting her friend. A rough hand grabbed my hoodie and lifted me off the ground and I instinctively twisted.
"Idiots," I muttered and delivered a roundhouse kick to the boy's suddenly panicked face.
He let go to clutch his face and I slid between the two males and swept one of his feet, axe-stomping on his stomach to keep him down. If any spoke, I ignored their trash talk and pleas. The girl tried to grab me and I quickly struck the pressure point in her arm, taking the opportunity to twist the limp limb before leaving her writhing in pain on the floor. The last standing boy got into a defensive position and I knew the element of surprise was gone. I couldn't win this fight when cornered against a wall.
"That's enough," a male voice spoke out and a hand settled firmly on my shoulder before I could make a run for it.
I stiffened immediately, the shock of the silent appearance sending shivers down my spine. I hadn't even noticed him.
"Will you calm down, kid? You can't fight forever," his words were calming and I felt them wrapping around my mind.
Maybe he was right. Maybe... I wanted to believe it and found my tensed muscles slowly relaxing with his encouragement.
"Karashi?" he inquired again, this time turning me to face him.
He bent down so my eyes were level to his own and my mind froze in its tracks. Ice-blue eyes stared at me with an inescapable intensity. His face was all too familiar although I hadn't seen him in two years.
"H-Hai," I stuttered and felt his hand grab mine.
Did he remember me? He gave me a warm smile but the mischievous glint in his eyes didn't escape my attention. He remembered. The assassin let the trio of thieves limp away and guided me towards his own car, a silver SUV.
"Are you alright, Karashi?" he asked absentmindedly.
"Do you have a name?" I mumbled, my voice cracking from its lack of use.
"Leon," he answered in an amused tone.
I just nodded and jumped in the passenger seat, buckling my seatbelt and placing my backpack at my feet. Screw stranger danger, the trust I had in him was stronger than anything else I'd experienced. The ride was silent but all the while, my mind was racing more than it ever had before.
How had he found me? Why had he helped me? This was going to be fun.
"Thank you, Leon," I whispered and saw him smile out of the corner of my eye.
"No problem, kid," he chuckled.
He's not going to give any answers for a long time, I sighed.