Father always said, "Don't think about the past, do what you have to in the present and pray for your future." I don't really think I have ever understood what he meant by that until now. Until I really have to chose between the life I grew up with, what I'm doing in the present and how one mistake at this moment could endanger my future. But now as I look at this nineteen year old girl, the girl I'm supposed to kill because that's what I do. I am a trained assassin, taught to murder innocent people and not think about the soul's lost in Society because of me. My pale fingers are curled tightly around the cold metal of the gun secured in the hollister strapped around my thigh, she hasn't seen me yet. Slowly I remove the weapon from the hollister with a click and raise it in the air, my finger balanced at the trigger, waiting to use the few bullets I have left. The girl turns around so she's now facing me, her eyes don't notice the gun pointed at her, if she does she is doing a good job at hiding her fear. Instead, her green eyes are locked on my own.

"I'm only human

And I crash and I break down

I'm only human

And I bleed when I fall down."

She sings, her sweet voice fills the empty silence. Her voice is what I always had imagined a hug would feel like from a family member, soft, warm and loving. Not that I would know, the only contact I have ever had with Father is when he cuts me with a knife he keeps locked in a drawer in his office. If I ever stepped out of line, he would be there waiting to imprint yet another scar on me. Though, when he did it, it was never the pain that made me cry. It was the look he would give me whilst doing it, mixtures of hatred, anger, rage and shame danced in his dark hazel eyes. I would take a thousand cuts so not to see that look pointed at me. I sigh and drop the gun. It clatters to the ground creating a cloud of the dirty sand of the sheltered alley. "Why?" The girl asks me. I'm not sure whether she's asking why I dropped the gun or why it took me so long to gather the courage to do it.

I glare at her and turn around, taking a deep breath. I run, running from the life as a assassin.

I think of the look Father will give me when I show up at the Southern Rebels Base with no weapon but then I remind myself of the girls singing and I push myself to run faster. It's near the end of Autumn so the icy wind bites my face and it takes a lot of effort not to trip over fallen twigs or slip on patches of frost. Being an assassin, I'm supposed to be cautious and keep my balance however I am by far the clumsily one at the Base. I reach the cold woods and weave myself in and out of the trees, finding the clearing within seconds I bang harshly against the metal door fixed in the ground. No one answers, I huff and bang again, freezing my knuckles in the process. Verona, my only friend in this place, unhooks the latches of the door, "Get in!" She hisses. I climb in and the smell of rust and alcohol reach my nose. Verona locks the door again and follows me through the metal walls of what I call home.

"Where is it?" Verona notices the empty hollister on my thigh. Then she sees my clean hands, free from a soul's innocent blood. She shakes her head, "Your going to get killed, Rosabelle."

I sigh and wrap my arms around my torso, Verona is possibly the only other person on this planet I have told my secret to, the secret of my Father's hatred and anger and my ugly scars. Yet, nobody will ever stop him because he's The Leader and we all obey by his rules, no matter how ruthless they may be. "I am giving up," I say. "This girl, she was different and I didn't have it in me to kill her because my heart may be small and black but it is there."

We stop outside the iron door leading to Fathers office, the door ruined by bullet holes and the stench of alcohol gets stronger. "Good Luck," She gives me a small hug and runs off to our dorm. I muster up all my courage and knock, the sound ethos throughout the empty halls. After a few minutes, Father opens the door. Each time I see him a shiver rolls down my spine.

"Come in," His voice says, I walk past him, feeling small and helpless under his gaze. "I have noticed you don't have your weapon? Do tell me Rosabelle, did you kill your target with your bare hands?" He chuckles then slams his fist onto the desk making me jump. "Or are you a coward?"

"I'm not a coward Father," I murmur, not willing to look him in the eyes.

He opens up the drawer on his desk and I sigh, knowing what's going to happen next. "Is that back chat I here Rose? Because you know what happens when you do," He chuckles and retrieves a shining silver knife that sparkles in the dim light of his office. I gulp.

"No Father," I say and take a cautious step back.

He looks at me, the look that could make me even cry. Sadly, an assassin cannot cry. "You should know by know, my daughter, that I am not one of patience." He swipes the knife down from my shoulder to my elbow in one swift motion, I gasp at the droplets of blood that trickle down my arm. "What happened?"

I take a deep breath, "I couldn't do it. My heart told me it was wrong to kill innocent people, it just took me a few years to realise that." Fury is painted clearly on his face.

"Your heart?" He laughs evily. "Machines don't have hearts."

I stare at Father for the longest of moments, "This one does," I counter and hold my bloody arm to my waist and storm out of the room with my head held high.

First Selection fanfic, what do you think? No hate please but appreciate Reviews and feedback!

Please review, they make me happy ;)

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~Daretodream4444 xoxox