The Truth About Me

I was twelve when I was in my first year of middle school.

I walked through the hallways, and didn't spare my ridiculous schoolmates a glance. I held my head high, and kept my face blank, not frowning but not smiling either. My steps were full of purpose, and I knew they're all staring at me.

"Isabel!"

I turned around to face the person who called me, and plastered a smile on my face. It didn't matter if it's fake; he can't see through it, anyway.

"Yes?" I stood there, and waited for his answer.

He smiled too, but it looked more like a smirk on him. "Mr. Collins is looking for you."

"I'll be in his office in a minute. Thanks for telling me," I told him, and despite what Mother drilled into my mind, a genuine smile lighted up my face.

He raised his hand, and walked in the opposite direction, but stopped and gave me another smile and a wink. I rolled my eyes at him, but as I walked and stopped in front of the door to Mr. Collins's office, I smiled again.

I knocked once, and then opened the door. I took a deep breathe, and smiled another one of my charming yet fake smiles. "Are you looking for me, Mr. Collins?"

"Take a seat, Isabel." He said without looking at me. I sat down, and looked around his office. It looked like the typical headmaster's room. There was a table and some chairs for visitors, and trophies decorated the back of his room.

"Are you having difficulties in your maths subject?"

I did. I never liked mathematics. Numbers never fascinated me. I was more keen on shopping, art, and the finer things in life, but I'm Isabel. I'd never let anyone discover that numbers were my weakness.

"No, sir. Maths is fine." I said.

He shook his head as he stared on a piece of paper on his table. "Your grades seem to say the opposite."

"You failed mathematics," A lump in my throat formed when he said those words. I failed at numbers. I, Isabel Vesper-Hollingsworth, actually failed at something.

But then my disbelief morphed into fear. If Mother found out, I'm dead. I remembered her words, Isabel, you're my daughter, and my daughter never fails.

I liked him.

Something about him attracted me. I didn't know if it was his perfect brown hair or his gorgeous grey eyes. Maybe it was the way he smiled and flirted with me, or the bad boy vibe he gave off. I didn't know, I didn't care.

"Isabel, are you listening to me?" My mother glared at me.

I felt my cheeks turn red, and I hoped that Mother didn't notice. "Of course, Mother."

She pursed her lips, and her eyes darkened. "You're thinking about that boy, aren't you?"

"No, Mother! Why would you think that?" I told her, and despite the flutter of nervousness I felt, I made my eyes meet her dark ones.

"Isabel, that boy's nothing but rubbish. I have a young man in mind for you. He's good-looking, rich, and powerful. The perfect choice."

I bit my lip as I played with my skirt. I didn't know anything about the boy my mother is telling me about, but I knew a lot about him. I knew the way he smirked, the way he danced, and the way his eyes twinkled mischievously.

Intold my mother once about him, and that was a mistake. I closed my eyes, refusing to remember her outburst and what happened after that. From today, I told myself, I'd keep everything a secret.

I graduated at the top of my class.

I made my speech, not once stuttering or letting my voice falter. I scanned the audience, and my eyes lingered on my mother. She clapped, but I knew she wasn't really proud of me. Not once did I see her really smile during the program, and that hurt.

"To my mother," I said, and she smiled, but I knew it's forced. She didn't smile for me— she smiled for the cameras. "Thank you for everything."

I continued my speech, and after finishing it, I heard a loud applause. I walked down the stage, and made a decision I knew I won't regret. Starting from today, I decided, I won't be a girl who gets hurt easily; I'll be a better Isabel Vesper-Hollingsworth, and I'll make my mother proud I'm her daughter.

I killed someone.

Today, on the day I turned twenty-two, I killed a man. It frightened me how easy it was. I just pulled a trigger, and a man's life disappeared. A life was taken. A family became fatherless, and a woman lost a husband.

I pushed down the bile from my throat. He asked for it; betraying me and my family. I kicked at his lifeless body with my heels, and I stared into those orbs that were once full of life.

He's dead, Isabel. There's nothing you can do about that.

I walked away from him, and patted my hair to make sure it's still in its perfect state. My steps were once again full with purpose, but unlike that day ten years ago, I didn't fail. I did my job perfectly, and I knew my mother would be proud.

I slipped on a mask devoid of emotion, and just like with pulling the trigger, I was scared at how easy being emotionless was.

I was numb today.

And I liked it.

Did you like it? Did you? Did you? Did you?

I'm sorry if the way I wrote it isn't good. I'm not updated with the 39 Clues anymore, and the last time I read or wrote anything about it was months or years ago.

Anyway, this is my first story posted using this account. If you like this and want to check out original stories I wrote, I have a Wattpad account you can look for me on.

The username is ExoticDarkEyes5. I repeat: ExoticDarkEyes5

Comment away :)

And thanks for reading

~ExoticDarkEyes5