OMG, I HAD ICE CREAM FOR BREAKFAST. Song Of The Day: Digital Daggers/Bad Intentions. Disclaimer: Disclaimed.
Chapter 6
The world slows down.
Oh, crap. I just pissed off my most dangerous instructor. Way to go, Tobias.
"I—I didn't mean-" I stutter.
"Shut up." Six snarled brutally. "What do you mean, you know all my secrets?"
"Umm . . . well, I know that you're Beatrice Prior, and that your father-" I choked off the sentence when she put the knife at my neck.
"Continue." She says flatly.
"I know your father bea-" She twisted the knife so it cut thinly into my skin, and yelped. "I know what your father does—did. I know you only have six—oh—fears, and . . . let me see your back."
"Excuse me?" Six asked. "I am your instructor. Why would you ask something like that?"
"Just let me see, I need to know if it was real-"
"If what was real?"
"Your fear landscape." I say, in a "duh" tone.
"No." She says, and I unthinkinly grab her sweater (Polyvore is on my bio). She pushes the knife closer to my throat and gets a glint in her eye that makes me fight not to cringe. "Why is your hand on my clothing?"
I gulp and jerk away. She smiles a smile, half "I'm A Cruel Bitch And I Know It" and half "Imma Damage Your Face," a damaged smile that chills my bones.
"Now run aloung, Tobias." She says, still sporting broken, unreadable, haunted eyes. She turns, and sits right down, by the wall. She tucks the knife into her boot, wiping my blood on her jeans.
"Are you sure you'll be okay-"
"Go away, Tobias." Six says, and I see tears well up in her eyes again, before I shut the door.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. . ..
"Tobias!" Yells a voice, and I turn. It's Christina. "How's Six?" I shrug, and her eyes land on my neck. "Oh. She got you good. . . . How bad did you piss her off?"
"I don't know. One minute, we're talking, the next, there's a knife at my throat."
"Yeah, she's unpredictable." Christina says, and hands over a tiny rectangular box. "Here. This accelerates healing."
"Thanks."
. . . . .. .
"Why were you so mean to that intitate?" Christina whispers.
"He was an asshole. He kept prying at—some shit I didn't want to talk about." I hear Six saying.
"I'm surer he didn't mean to-"
"Shut up, Christina, he's listening to us!" Six says sharply. She meets my eyes across the table.
Her's are a perfect sort of brown and hazel, mixed beautifully. They flicker back to her tray, and I blink against the sudden brightness in the dining hall.
Dammit. I think. I'm falling hard.
