Trained To Kill

two: partners.

I walk through the glass door, and there’s a hallway with all white walls and white floors. There are steel doors running along the walls, and then theres a corner. The number on my card is 142. I search the numbers, but it seems like these are the 130’s, so I walk further and peep around the corner. Turns out, this building is not as small as I thought. Around the corner, it opens up into a huge cafeteria, with vending machines and tables and even a cafeteria-like set up that looks like a lunch line belongs there. There are automated sliding glass doors that lead to other rooms, which are labeled. I see one that says Gym /Training Room and there’s another that says Washroom and the other says Lounge. Directly across from me, on the other side of the room, there is a similar opening and I can tell there are more rooms in another hall, so I walk in that direction.

I find my room number near the end of the corridor.

The card key swipes with a beep and what sounds like a heavy lock clicks and the door automatically opens. The space looks a hell of a lot smaller on the outside, because I walk into a large room set up with two full sized beds on opposite corners. There are desks with notebooks and an assortment of pens and pencils scattered on them. The walls are painted a blinding white color, matching the bed sheets. The frames of the bed as well as the floors and the furniture are made from a light brown wood. There are lamps and dressers next to the bed. Other than that, the room is empty.

Well, besides the girl sitting on the bed staring me up and down. I awkwardly walk towards the unoccupied bed and run my hand over the sheet before sitting. “Hi.” I say to her, unsure of what to make about this entire situation.

She’s a little shorter than me, with brown skin and almond shaped eyes. Unlike my unfortunate stick skinny figure, she’s built much more leaner and looks a whole lot stronger. “Hi.” She responds with a flip of her medium length black hair. “I’m Imani.” She says and half smiles.

“Imani Lovelace?”

“Uh.. yea…” She looks at me weirdly.

“Sorry… I’m not being creepy, I just heard your name called first, that’s why I remember it.” I say nervously. There is a long awkward silence between us as we both survey our surroundings. She’s the first one to talk. “So, you know what this is?”

“No. I was..uh.. out.. doing things on the street when I was knocked out and brought here.”

She’s still eyeing me up and down. I can tell easily that she’s the type of person who is automatically suspicious of other people. “Huh. Same here. You live on the streets too?”

“Um… well, no. I don’t.” Did she?

“You got a speech problem or somethin?” She says suddenly with an attitude. Jeez, no. I mean, I’m nervous. Who wouldn’t be? Talking to someone you don’t know and taken to a place you’ve never been to. Not to mention the fact that they told us we wouldn’t be going back to our normal lives again? “Sorry.” She says quickly, but her tone isn’t very apologetic. “You never told me your name.”

“Karma.” I say, this time a little quieter. She’s managed to suck away my last bit of confidence.

“Karma?” She laughs, but it’s not a mean laugh. It’s a genuine one. “Like the bitch?”

Her remark causes me to laugh a little too. “Yes. Karma like the bitch.”

“That’s a badass name.” She says, her laughing trailing off. “You from Virginia too?”

“Virginia??” Where exactly are we? “No.. I’m from Brooklyn.”

“Wait, Brooklyn? Is that where we are now?” Her eyes get big.