Murmurs in the corridor outside wake me up and I sit up stretching my arms and back. I put my shoes away and the clothes I had in the bag into the washing machine that's in the corner of my room. I beg that my washing privileges weren't taken away, since I only had four outfits, and this was one of them. Luckily, it beeps and all is good. I yawn, and stumble slightly into the bathroom that is attached to my room. In there I wash my face with water, brush my teeth and have a five-minute ice cold shower to rinse off the dirt and grime from yesterday night. Or this morning.
I change into black cargo pants and a sports bra, and then a baggy dark green tank top over it. I slip on my running shoes and throw my curly brown mop into a bun. My bronze skin glows slightly when I open the curtains.
I get my ID, and attach it to my waistband as well as the mandatory items. I go out of my room and am met with slight commotion in the hallways. I stop Zara while she passes me.
"What's going on?" I ask her, glancing around at everyone's panicked faces.
"Surprise mandatory room check. Everyone's quickly cleaning things." She answers, before running back to her room, which was diagonally opposite mine.
I understand what she means immediately. Nobody is cleaning, they're all hiding the banned items that they have in their room. I shut my door and check my room to make sure no one has decided to frame me today. I find nothing, but the inspectors do a much more thorough job.
I then stand outside my door, with it open as the rules state. Mrs. Smith comes down the hall with her heels clicking. She has the team behind her and one by one they check each of our rooms. I get shivers when one of the people in the Apiarist beekeeping suit. They wear these because it's students in suits, and they don't want fights breaking out if a student finds something in another student's room. I've never found anything, except for in Annora's room. I didn't blab, though, since it was so spectacularly hidden that it was hard for me to even see it from its hiding place in the floorboards.
Something in a bag is given to Mrs. Smith and I see the anger in her face. "Who has dared to defy the rules, and buy this m-monstrosity."
I slightly raise an eyebrow. She has a pack of cigarettes in her hands, and a pack of condoms. Normal teenage things, but they are strictly forbidden here.
You're not allowed condoms in this sector, since sexual activities are forbidden. And cigarettes aren't allowed anywhere since we have to have healthy lungs for all the athletics we do here.
"I know who it is, so you better fess up. It'll lessen the punishment."
It won't. She's lying, it'll be the same but it works when you think 'I could be getting worse than this, how bad is it here'. I know who it is as well, it's one of the two new sixteen year old's.
"I-it was me." I watch as the girl with pink streaks in her hair steps forward. She's shaking slightly, yet I distinctly remember her telling us she wouldn't care if she was found out. Nobody helps her for that reason, not that we would have helped her anyway. You're on your own here, and it isn't a lie to help people be selfish. Everybody knows it.
Two security guards , males, show up and drag her away. She starts breaking down and sobbing while falling onto her news. She starts screaming and she's about to turn the corner when she screams for help. Nobody does. We're not stupid. If we help her, we won't help her. We'll just receive the same fate as her, and she'll get worse than already planned.
Then something stupid happens.
"STOP! That's not right!" The other sixteen year old screams. I let myself roll my eyes slightly. This girl is probably having a main character moment, playing games in her head that announcing it's not right will work. We all know it's not right, but the only thing saving us is people from the outside. Not the inside. And we all know it. Sometimes, you can't save yourself.
Mrs. Smith looks at her, laughs and two more security guards come out of the elevator and grab her and bring her back. I hear her screams before the door even fully closes. Disgust crawls through my skin, knowing what she's going through.
"No! No, no, no, no..." I hear as the elevator starts going down, and I feel my eyes water. I clamp my arms together behind my back, and bite the inside of my cheek.
If I help her I'll just make it worse, if I help her.... I chant in my head. I look around and see the greenness in all the girls' faces. Most of them are imagining it, but others are remembering.
I clench my jaw as I hear the screams of agony coming from the girl who originally did it start to sound. She's probably just going through the usual torture methods, since those security guards have an ounce of kindness in them.
"Riley?" I snap my head to Mrs. Smith, and watch as she makes a motioning action with her hand. I follow her as she walks through the staff corridors to the head of the department's office. She gives me a nod, as if neither of us are the most disgusting creatures on this planet.
I knock on the door, and walk in when a voice calls from inside.
The office is large, with bookcases lining the two side walls, and glass acting as the far wall. A large wooden desk sits in the middle of the room, at the centre of an old style burgundy rug. I sit in the plastic, squeaky chair opposite Mr. Kingsley. Mr. Kingsley is the man that does whatever jobs there needs to be done at the time. He also looks over our building.
"Greetings, Riley!" He says ecstatically, and I just nod and slightly smile at him. I don't speak to people i dont like more than necessary. I don't speak to people I don't respect at all. "I have such good news! You have been hired by a client!"
I nod. This happens a lot. I work as a rent bodyguard for when you want a guard, but don't want to go through all the process of hiring someone. Mainly I work one to two week jobs for the wealthy and rich. I also work for people in witness protection, but mostly for mafias, crime families, and people in gangs. Anyone who can 'afford' me really.
I'm $10,000 a week, and $45,000 a month. $95,000 for two months. The institute get a quarter of everything I earn, which is shit but it's life. It's so much because I am actively putting my life at risk for someone I don't even know except for a name and gender.
I'm the best fighter/bodyguard out there, or so I've been told. I'm certain there are quite a few people better than me. I am a bodyguard instead of a soldier because everyone here in the institute has been kidnapped to be here. I want to save people from that happening to them. Who knows? There might be a place worse than this.
I nod, and hate the vile taster on my tongue when looking at this man. Every instructor and teacher here is absolutely fucking disgusting.
"When do I leave? And who is it?" I ask, before remembering what I have to say. "Mr. Kingsley."
You only get a 'sir' or 'ma'am' if I respect you, or have good-ish vibes. Mar Kingsley definitely doesn't. This is the only rebellion I can get away with.
"You will be leaving in two hours. Roman Alleato hired you to protect his wife and his two youngest children." I nod in stunned silence.
Roman Alleato? The Don of the Italian-American Mafia? Mafia's don't usually hire bodyguards for a short period of time. They usually just get one of their soldiers to do the job, as they are good at it.
I've met Roman Alleato before. I was fighting when I was eighteen, protecting my client; a six year old child. It was his bar. He showed up, I fought him. Let me tell you, that was the hardest fight I have ever been in. I only just won, and only because he was slightly tipsy. I pointed my gun, I walked back and I reached the door. My exact words when he sat up confused were, 'don't want your family to be fatherless and widowed. Plus you never fully attacked the child'. I walked out after that.
One of the only other reasons I let him live is because it would have started a war.
I'm surprised he's hiring me. Maybe he didn't know it was me? Surely this is a mistake. Right?
Either way, I pack up. I put on the standard uniform I wear when not on a specific job. I put on a black long sleeved top that stops just above my belly button. I then put on black tight jeans, and fingerless wrist length gloves. They have padding on my knuckles so it's less painful to punch. I put on black running shoes and an earpiece. It's connected to a simple AI that gives me the rundown of the map of the place from what it observes of the place, how old it is and who owns it now. I programmed it to do that. Under my top is a thin veil that is made of metal, it's extremely thin, but it slows the bullets down. It's not a bulletproof vest, but it stops it from doing extreme damage. I do the same thing around the waistband of my jeans. I hide my Glock 19, and then stuff my knives in my garter holster around my ankle. It's easy to conceal. Apart from that, I put the rest of my clothes in the duffle bag, my laptop and electronics in my backpack and chargers. Then I add a couple of weapons purely for self-defence if I get caught by attackers on the way there.
Slinging the duffle bag and backpack on my shoulder, I walk out of my room. I give my ID into reception and then receive my card with money. They can't track this one, purely because I hacked into it so it all looks normal to the people looking over my transactions here.
I nod to the driver and pile my things into the trunk of the car.
I hear the sound of my name and feel myself smile slightly.