IMPORTANT! READ! Now that I have your attention, I want you to know how hard it is to do this. The story is . . . difficult, and doesn't leave me much to work with. I'm doing this chapter, then most likely, discontinuing the story. There are not nearly enough reviews and followers for me to write this story. It deserves a much better audience that that, and since I can obviously not give the story what it needs, then what would be the point? So, my dear reader, I give you the last chapter of Refuge.
Kim's POV
Flashback
Running. All she could think about was running. Getting away from the concentration camp she had called home since birth. The place were people were slowly killed if they tried to get away from this awful place they were forced to call home.
She had witnessed her own father, Greg, slowly die in the gas chamber. Had watched the deadly fog cause blisters to erupt all over the man's body. She knew the chemicals in the fog would make his throat swell until his airway was blocked off. At that point, HIS soldiers had taken him out of the chamber and let him die as a public example of what would happen should any of them try to rebel.
The saddest part? Kim could no longer produce tears for the dead. The first time she had seen a person die, she had wept until she was on the verge of dehydration. Her mother was killed after the soldiers had discovered Kim. All parents were killed after their child is born. This keeps people from becoming emotionally attached to someone they might have to leave to die in the battle field. The soldiers had decided Kim was to grow into an assassin. The most bloody position available in the camp.
But Kim could NOT run. Her brother, Evan, had been born a year later. Kim had been under the table with Evan when the soldiers killed their mother, hushing him when he started to wail. But now, they had Evan. The only thing keeping her here was her brother and they knew that. So she trained. Practiced until she was so sore she could hardly manage to fall into bed at night.
A couple of years later, she was given her first assignment. The assignment made her stomach churn, after all, she was a first-year assassin. But she had been given a job that had been deemed to difficult for pro assassins. The assignment? Kill Jack, a rebel causing trouble, possibly assembling an uprising. If she failed, she would be forced to watch Evan die.
Anger had made her blood boil when she heard what the consequences would be if she failed. Anger at the soldiers, at the unjustified threat, at Jack. This . . . kid was putting her baby brother in danger. And that was not something she forgave easily.
Her machete in her hand, Kim looked around the deserted street. She wondered what it must have been like when it was full of life. But her thinking did not last long. The scuffling of shoes made her whip her head around. Jack. The boy causing all the trouble was standing before her, sweat dripping of his face. The boy was . . . beautiful. His shaggy brown hair made her think of running her hands through it, those light pink lips that looked soft as down. The boy was built like one of the advanced assassins she had trained with. Muscular, but not frighteningly so. Kim snapped back to reality when she heard a sharp intake of breath from the boy. He looked . . . betrayed. She followed his line of vision to the wide, thick handle of her machete. The insignia. HIS insignia. A circle with green flames delicately lapping at the edges while the top of the circle had exactly five stones set on it.
The boy looked up until he met her eyes. Then, what seemed to be in slow motion, he turned and started to run. Kim forced her feet to start moving, quickly catching up to Jack. She would not cry out for help. She wanted to take him down herself. That was the only way she could guarantee Evan's safety. But something happened. She caught her leg on a snare, a trap surely set by the refugees. She screamed as she fell to meet the cold asphalt that awaited her. She watched Jack stop, and turn his brown eyes on her. He started to walk towards her, slowly bringing her closer to tears. She pictured Evan's face, wondered what they would do to him. Right as the boy knelt down to look at her, she blacked out, praying to God that Evan's death would be swift and painless.
