Assassin in Black: City of redemption

3 || A S t o r y t e l l e r ' s T a l e

From the outside you could kick them in without a problem. Problem was, I was on the inside and not the outside.

Slipping my nails into the crevice between the two boards, I angled my arms backwards and pulled.

The boards moved slightly, coming towards me. My nails strained with their hold on the door, pulling apart from the skin they were attached too. Releasing my hold on the boards, I cursed loudly as I stepped back slightly. Reexamining the boards and their current position, I predicted the board was more likely to move if pulled harder.

The left board was out slightly more than the right, giving it more of a up hand over the right. If I was able to open the left board, I would have ultimately no problem opening the right.

I stepped forward.

I readjusted my hold to only the left board. Digging my nails into the board, I moved to the side and yanked.

The board came lose, causing me to stumble and hit the wall. My head hit the wall, causing a loud thump. I squeezed my eyes tightly together, scrunching up my nose. White blotches danced on my eyelids.

Ignoring the pain, I opened my eyes.

I was taught that pain was only a warming system from the brain. Often, the pain stopped us from being pushed to our full capabilities. People like me, assassins, had not only a higher pain tolerance but knew their true limit. We had a comfort zone like anyone else, but we too knew when it was time to stop. Pain, could be blinding and crippling. It often distracted us, becoming a problem rather than a warning system.

I stepped forward slightly, opening my eyes as the pain subsided.

I let out a large breath of air, straightening my back and stepping forward and up to the window. I yanked on the right board, the yellow wood coming out of the window seal easily. I pushed both boards against the outer most window seal. I glanced upwards, smiling at the view.

The sky was a black color and the white spots stuck out predominantly. The stars twinkled and sparkled, often how the storybook writers portrayed them too. I admired them for a second before turning away and looking for a chair.

I took the one from the vanity, dragging it across the floor until it was positioned next to the window. Plopping down, I angled my head upwards to watch the skies and stared.

I stared for hours.

And I lost no interest.

*

I woke up to the sound of rushing boots.

Loud, obnoxious, and extremely repetitive boot stomps coming from the hall. Either someone was urgently trying to get somewhere or they were trying to get themselves killed by myself.

I let out a soft groan, opening my eyes. They were, of course, met by the suns blinding bright light.

I shut them, turning my head so my hair covered my eyes. Slowly opening my eyes, I was met by the dark brown strands attached to my head. The wavy dry strands looked awkward hanging in front of my eyes. I shut my eyes again, sighing and let my shoulder hang.

My door was thrown open, banging against the wall.

I didn't flinch, I had heard worst than a door being thrown open.