Andrea woke up to the irritating sound of her alarm. As she sat up on her bed, her glasses fell from her face. The book she was reading laid open on her side.
She stretched herself and got off the bed. Checking the time, she saw it was 4:56.
Already?!
Morning session.
Fear and panic engulfed her.
Her heart was beating at a vigorous speed. Cursing under her breath she rushed to the bathroom and did her morning routine (and with an unsuccessful strenuous attempt, she tried to rub off the notes on her arm.) and pulled on the hooded tank top and the pair of camouflage cargo pants.
She ran downstairs with her hair in a messy ponytail.
As she neared the main entrance of the manor she could hear Auster's brutal commands. They were done with jogging.
She peered out the manor's door to see everyone was in three filed rows. She spotted Casper watching over the pack. Auster turned around to speak to one of the inspectors and she slowly walked out making sure to maintain her presence to a minimum.
A few of them glanced between her and Auster, waiting for him to notice her.
You could never trust anyone here. Even if you vowed to each other, they'll still save their own necks, they don't make friends here, they make allies.
They were taught this indirectly at a very young age.
She got closer to a gap at the back, as she was about to fill it, she sensed something stopping her movements.
Her left foot was stuck and she looked down to see a layer of dirt engulfing her foot ruining the perfectly mown fake grass.
Completely aware of whose doing this was, she glared up at Auster who was smirking back at her.
"Well, Look at this mouse we caught today. Late for training" he tsked and his joking look turned into a stern expression in a fraction of a second"- I want you to jog ten rounds and five more for being late meaning you have to do fifteen rounds. After that, go to the training center immediately"
He could've just said 15 rounds. Showing everyone he can do basic math.
She pulled out her feet and walked away, warming up a bit, and started jogging.
The frigid morning breeze swept against her face and she huffed in the aroma of petrichor, which was caused by the water from the rain, along with certain compounds like ozone, geosmin, and plant oils.
She boosted her pace when she got to her fifth round and noticed everyone going back in the manor. She huffed and continued, thinking of ways to murder that man.
She could run her blade through his head.
Or slice his neck.
Maybe his limbs.
Start with the throat so no one would hear his screams. Then his limbs.
Dig a hole a few meters deep and throw him in there, pour yogurt, then cover it with a layer of dirt then place a dead animal, and then cover the hole.
She possibly couldn't use her sword, maybe another one from the raining station.
Relief dawned upon her realizing that there was no inspection today, it was always a habit of her to have notes sprawled over her arm.
But this was the first time she was ever late intentionally. Punctuality was a priority unless she just purposefully didn't want to attend.
Her nails would be clipped short and kept delicate except for her thumb would always be nipped.
It was a habit which she never seemed to get a control but now she doesn't bite all her nails.
Marcela would beat her hands to a point they would start to bleed.
“Place out your hands,” Marcela ordered.
Andrea obliged, her thumbs were bitten off, the tank top she wore wasn’t aiding her with hiding the words and symbols drawn all over her arms.
Marcela traced the baton over her, fingers and wrist.
“What is this?” Her voice was threateningly low, tapping the baton on the back of her hand.
Andrea’s stoic expression remained as she stared at the floor. She had seen this coming the very moment she woke up.
She looked neither scared nor afraid just simply resigned to her fate.
She assumably shouldn’t have consumed the whole night in the library reading about a woman who lived with her abusive husband, until one day a woman who was exploring criminology moved into the new house in front of theirs.
To welcome her new neighbor, the woman invited her for dinner.
They learned her name was named Emily, and Emily learned that the bruises on Isabella weren’t from falling down the stairs.
Within about six chapters the two chatted, sent each other letters, and spent unforgettable nights in her room when her husband, Charles was away.
Andrea had fallen asleep at the part where Isabella woke up in the middle of the night, the night Emily will be taking her carriage to go back to her hometown.
The paragraph where the tip of her knife was a few inches away from his chest.
“Place them on the table,” Andrea kept her hands on the metal table, and the baton met them with a loud smack!
She almost lost her composure at the cracking sounds.
The pain jerked through her body, she swore the bones in her fingers were shattered.
She did her best to not show any sense of pain on her face.
“I. Don't. Want. To. See. This. Again!” she punctuated every word with a thwack.
“You hear me!”
The beating had left her hands mangled, her knuckles were bruised, torn open and, battered.
It looked as if she had punched a rough surface demolishing it all. Her skin was a mixture of a dirty scarlet and a mottle of purple.
“Will I ever see this kind of shit against your uniform codes again?!”
She bored her eyes into hers.
“No.”
She gazed at the manor.
It was enormous. Its gleaming black towers rose into the clouds like ravenous fingers grasping for the stars. The sunlight scarcely made it inside, as if it was afraid to enter.
As she was on her last round her pace slowed down.
When she was done, she continued jogging into the manor and the training center.
No one was present.
She wiped the sweat off her forehead from the back of her palm. Her limbs felt sore and she felt a tad dizzy and hungry. She bent down and placed her hands on her knees trying to mellow out.
"You're not even her daughter, to begin with,"
She groaned at the sudden thought that decided to pop out. She didn't want to waste her mental energy on that right now, but her brain thought otherwise.
You're not even like her.
Maybe that's why she doesn't love you like those mothers in the books.
"We have to tell her Auster"Andrea's ears sharpened at the sudden voice of Casper.
She furrowed her eyebrows in confusion as to why Casper wasn't addressing him as sir the way everyone was ordered to obey.
"And why is that?"Auster asked as their footsteps stopped.
"She asked me about it yesterday. I almost spilled it all out"
Almost is never enough.
"I don't know why Madam Marcela even bothered to tell ya that"
" Why don't you ask yourself that question?"
"Either way I would've known. Wanna know why? Eh? I was there that night. I saw her father, and I gladly murdered her mother! I slit her throat so easily, her neck was like warm butter."Andrea heard him make a screeching sound and she could see him dragging his finger across his own throat. “ Well at least if you can call that thing her mother”
She scowled in anger. She despised the man even more if that even was possible.
Casper sighed as if he had heard this more than he had to. As they were going to enter the room Andrea rushed to the sword section, picked out her sword, and pretended like she was examining it.
She ran a finger down the blade with the same expression most women reserve for chocolate.
It always shone in the sun as if it were fashioned from the brilliant rays themselves.
The broad silvery metal was cold from the lack of warm and bright hearts and minds it went through.
In all the landscape was the thing that drew the eye, a symbol of the kind of determination that encouraged her to find her motivation, to be better than she thought she was able to be.
"Oh! Andrea! We didn't know you were here" she turned around to see his blue eyes flickering with worry.
She just gave a small nod.
"Choose ya weapons and get ready!" Auster commanded. Andrea picked out her sword. Both of them braced themselves to strike. Auster strutted between them, he unhurriedly backed away.
"Attack!"
They lunge towards each other, their blades clashed. Even if Casper was the only Sicariurs with a whiff of sympathy and love in him, he never showed mercy to anyone if it meant gaining a victory.
Except her.
She puts out his flames every time.
Both of them pressed their blades against each other. She bent her knee hitting his stomach. He staggered back.
She thrust towards him as he tried to steady himself using the butt of her sword she thwacked his temples sending him to the floor.
He patted three times on the floor signaling he gave up.
Auster steeped towards them.
“Pathetic! Lost to a girl! Especially one younger than ya!”
Anger bubbled in her chest and glared at the man. He knelt and lifted him by his hood. Casper’s temple was bitterly bruised, drawing out trickles of blood.
His half-lidded eyes indicated he was about to faint any second. Andrea didn't show any signs of concern or worry. This was regular, the nurse could fix him up.
But those thoughts never crossed her mind before when she trained with him. This fight was different.
She never injured him like this, it was either strangling, suffocating or threatening him with her blade that made him give up.
But her feelings dabbled with her, the certainty he lied to her. She could’ve slaughtered him, but she never finished off things without getting the results she wanted.
“Ya disgust meh! Such a galah! If a girl can do this to ya! I wonder what others have done! Ya big girl’s blouse !” Auster let go of him, stood up, and left.
Knowing he went to fetch the nurse Andrea watched as he stood up. He used the wall as leverage.
"I could've made your injury more drastic, but it was just propitious"
Casper's face wried in disturbance at her hostility.