Hell's Personal Assassin: Book 1

Chapter 6

"Think harder," I repeated with a sigh before turning back to my desk and staring at the blank sketchbook. Everyone else was already starting there drawings, I could tell, by the laughter and the bragging I heard of there sketches so far.

"Close you eyes..." I said quietly to myself, repeating what the woman said as I did the action. "And search," I whispered to myself as I leaned back in the uncomfortable metal chair.

Blank.

My mind was completely, absolutely, one-hundred percent blank.

No thoughts, what-so-ever, even passed my mind as I tried to think and "search". It was like my mind was a computer that just got wiped out or a TV where it's not working and all you see is squiggly lines and all you hear is that irritating static sound.

But the weird thing, out of all of what just happened to me, was that even if I tried- and trust me, I tried- I couldn't do it.

I couldn't open my eyes.

My body felt paralyzed, my head felt like it was being held in place, and my lips and eyes felt like they were sewed shut. Nothing, and I mean nothing, I did was helping me out. I felt like screaming, but even if my head I couldn't scream. I was a prisoner in my own body.

"Michelle," I faintly heard someone say in the distance as I kept trying to open my eyes.

'Help! Help me!' I managed to scream in my head in a strained and whimpering voice, feeling like I was being strangled tighter and tighter with every letter I spoke out.

"Michelle," the same voice said again after what felt like an hour, making me want to cry.

'PLEASE! H-HELP ME!' I screamed in my head, sounding like I was about to be decapitated, and hoping somehow the person talking to me could save me and stop this.

I heard a distant, sickening giggle that sounded like it came from some demented child start to form in the back of my head. 'Do it again,' the giggling voice said, the invisible hands tightening around my throat. 'Do it again! I want to hear you scream! DO IT!'

"Michelle," the person said in a clearer and firmer sounding voice as I felt a hand touch me. As soon as the person touched me my eyes opened and the first thing I did was let out a hitched breath. The second thing I did was look at what was in front of me.

'That's not what I started off seeing,' I said in my head in a scared voice as I saw my position and the drawing in front of me.

I was hunched over on my desk- my long hair covering my face entirely- with my pencils and colored pencils scattered slightly across the table and a picture I don't remember drawing right in front of me.

Two eyes.

A blue and a red one.

Drawn with so much precision and detail that at first I thought they were actual eyes. They looked challenging, mischievous, and sadistic at first glance; and the background was shaded heavily, but I could tell as I kept looking at it that the background was a hood reaching to right above his eyebrows and the bottom of the drawing reaching to the top half of his nose, the layout of the picture being a "landscape layout".

My blood ran cold at the sight of that drawing, the eyes literally taking up more than half of the page.

That face. Those eyes. They looked familiar.

Where have I seen them?

"Michelle," they said again, shaking my shoulder slightly. It was a boy. A teenage boy. "Michelle, are you okay?" he said, before turning me to face him and picking my head up by putting his index finger on my chin.