"The first step to getting the things you want out of life is this: Decide what you want."
- Ben Stein
Cutting The Crap | Dizelde
I was trapped. Long, thin arms trapped my own to my sides. Hard hands gripped my hips tightly. I couldn't move. I tried to kick my legs but they were tied. I was helpless.
I was trapped.
I woke up moaning into my pillow, my sheets tangled around my sweat-soaked body. I opened my eyes, my vision bleary. Another nightmare. I'd had more nightmares than I'd had sleep. I felt revolting. My throat hurt. My muscles ached.
I was so frightened. Of the nightmare. Of my forgotten past. Of my foster-father's orders.
"Dizelde. Wake up sweetie. Scythe's gone down to brief the crew on the week's work."
WHAT?! I shoved myself upright and grabbed my alarm clock. Who had turned off my alarm? I was going to be so late!
"Cher! Why didn't you wake me?" Cher was Scythe's wife of two years who I had yet to accept as my foster mother. Who in their right mind would marry a man who organised people to kill his enemies?
"Scythe thought he'd give you a chance to sleep in for once."
I untangled myself from the sheets and threw them onto the floor. Why would he do something like that? He never did that to anyone else and he never usually treated me any different to his other assassins.
"I've got breakfast on the table for when you get out of bed."
I heard her walk softly away from my door. I shivered involuntarily. Something wasn't right.
I stumbled over to my closet and slid open the door.
And blinked in shock to find that half my clothes were gone, along with my case of daggers and the money in my treasure box. A thief? I nearly laughed out loud. It would have been impossible for a thief to get into the compound. So had one of Scythe's men gotten into my room? I changed quickly into the last long sleeved shirt remaining and my black training sweats. As I moved to leave the room I noticed something out of place on my desk. A small sheet of white paper. A note. Did thieves leave notes?
I tentatively picked it up and scanned my eyes over the unfamiliar handwriting.
You have one hour to be out of the complex before the boss returns
Leave by the back entrance, the guards will be distracted
Your things have been packed and are in the backpack by the end of your bed
Do not hesitate lest you wish to remain here
And live your life as your father did
Killing as a living
I scanned over it again, my heart beating like a cornered animal's.
Leave? I could escape?
I swallowed hard and looked down to the bag at the end of my bed.
Who had sent the note? Who had infiltrated the house of two assassins without notice?