The Ballad of Mona Lisa {ON HOLD}

Chapter 4- ...Are We Seriously Trying Again?

~Mona Lisa~

After my nightmare, I looked over at the clock to see it was still four in the morning, and since I didn't have an assignment, I didn't have to get up until seven for training. Well, okay, I didn't even have to get up for training, but I forced myself to get up every single day no later than seven to train. I'm going for that L10 someday, because maybe then they'll let me out of here. Most likely not, but I can hope. I really do hate this life, and I wish I could get out of it, but I can't let anyone know of those feelings. They'd punish me or maybe even kill me for those kinds of thoughts because it begs the question of my loyalty. But the thing is, I have to stay loyal. One, because if I wasn't, they'd probably kill me, and two, even if I did get out of this place, where am I going to go? They educated me, sure, but according to the rest of the world, I don't exist. I had one of my hacker buddies look me up, and the only information on me is my birth certificate. Although finding that was an adventure, let me tell you. Turns out I had been celebrating my birthday over a week late. I was told my birthday was April 25, but as it turns out, it's actually April 17. That makes me an Aries. Go figure.

Deciding I'm not going back to sleep, I haul myself out of bed and grab one of my jumpsuits, which I wear as my casual outfit. I head to the bathroom, ready to get ready for the day. The first thing I do is look in the mirror, and since I wear a loose tank top as a pajama top, I can see the scar on my shoulder clearly. I touch the small circle of pink flesh softly, feeling a slight tingle at the spot. I sigh, and slowly raise my tank top up a little bit to look at the scar on my stomach. It's not a real circle, but a line. The bullet to my shoulder exited my body, so I have a scar on both sides of my shoulder, but they had to perform surgery to get the bullet fragments out of my abdomen. Sometimes if I let my mind get away from me, especially after a nightmare, I can still feel the burning sensation in my shoulder. See, when I first got shot in the shoulder, I didn't notice it for a couple moments, but then it started to burn like a bitch, and when we were heading back in the van, a normal, but intense, kind of pain set in. It was the same way with the gutshot, except that one actually didn't hurt as much, most likely because of the adrenaline of trying to protect Sarah. I don't know.

Shaking my head to clear it of unwanted memories, I grab my toothbrush and start my daily routine, which consists of picking out how I want to look today. I don't think I know my natural looks anymore. Do I even have any natural looks? I must. What did I have when I came out of my mother's body? I haven't a clue. I have a feeling that if I die then my body might just revert back to what's natural, but as of now, I don't know what that is. I don't know if I was born a blonde, a brunette, a red-head...and I don't know what color my eyes were. I don't know what's supposed to be behind the mask, and sometimes, that really sucks. Scott...Keaton tells me I need to "be myself" more, but how can I be myself if I don't even know who I am? Sighing, I decide to go brown hair and blue eyes today, and I pull my hair back into a ponytail. Once my daily routine is completed, I go to the kitchen to make myself some breakfast before I go to the shooting range to complete my training regimen.

As I sit eating a bowl of Lucky Charms, my mind wanders back to the notebook that's sitting in the bottom drawer of my dresser. The only thing I have left of my parents. In a moment of bravery, I decide that I'm going to read it right now. I don't know what came over me, but I put my cereal down and head into the bedroom, grabbing the red notebook out of my dresser. My hands start to shake a little bit as I go to open it, but I tell myself to get a grip on myself. I have to read this thing eventually. I don't know if I'm ready to confront it, but I'm going to force myself to do so anyway. I open the cover page, and I'm instantly greeted with the loopy scrawl of one of my parents.