Remember

A/N: I wrote this for school, but I wanted to post it here anyway. Please tell me what you think!

(It's edited)

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Remember

I stood encircled by the bodies of the people I had been training against. They weren’t dead. When I fought, I never killed. Never. I only hurt my opponents enough to let them know not to mess with me. Ever. I was one of the best students at the academy. I could fight several opponents at a time with ease. Their moves had become slow and predictable.

“A good victory, Morana. Swift and clean. You are ready for the next level.” My tutor’s voice was free of emotion, just like everyone else’s here, including mine. Here, you showed no feelings. Feelings were scorned. They hindered you in battle. I knew what it meant to fight at the next level: I would be attacked by armed opponents while being unarmed myself. When do I start, I wondered. But of course, that question would never pass my lips. Asking would betray weakness, and the point of the exercise was to take me by surprise.

My honed intuitions reached out and tensed. My instincts screamed a warning, and already my tutor was in mid-air. I knew that he always kept a knife in his belt, and a pistol. As if in slow-motion, I saw his hand grasp the handle of his gun. Distantly, I heard people enter the room, and in a surge of adrenaline, I saw everything at once.

I moved forward at a run and quickly shoved the pistol out of the hand of my enemy. I sensed his other hand move in with his knife, but I swivelled around, caught his wrist, and used his momentum to twist his hand and take the knife off him as well.

I felt something in my stomach and whirled around. Two people jumped at me, bringing down glinting daggers. I twisted away, sensed more than saw one opponent cut the other with his knife. I wasn’t quite fast enough, though. The knife caught my hair, and I felt my braid come undone as I used my own newly acquired knife to put my last opponent out of action. Satisfied, I moved away from the bleeding mess and caught sight of my tutor’s wry smile. “And what about me?” he asked, straightening up from the wall he had been leaning against. “I'm still standing.”

I raised my right arm, the one that held his pistol, and aimed it at him. I said, “All I have to do is move my finger less than an inch and you won't be standing any more.”

He laughed a cold, heartless laugh. “I know you, Morana. You never make the last move, the finishing touch. You'd never pull the trigger on that pistol.”

I raised the knife in my left hand and threw it, aiming at the cloth of his shirt, just above his shoulder. It caught and pinned him against the wall. “Remove that knife, and I promise, I will pull the trigger,” I warned.

Now that the adrenaline rush had left, I felt strangely drained. The world seemed to be moving too fast, leaving me no time to appreciate anything. Something cold sliced through my shirt and cut the skin of my waist. I felt warm blood trickling down my right side, and I quickly turned to face my new enemy. I had never seen her before. She was tall and wore a black tank-top that revealed her muscular arms.

“I'm your new tutor,” she said. “You can call me Slasher. Say your good-byes and let's get you to the next training room, which is better equipped than this one.” She surveyed her surroundings, her nose wrinkled in disgust.

I dropped the pistol, threw a glance of farewell around the room and followed Slasher out the door.

“I've heard great things about you, Morana. It is Morana, right?”