I don't need to check Lena for a pulse. She's deader than a doornail, no longer a threat to me or Jennie.
Blood stained shards of glass and broken wood cover the entire area above the trapdoor. With a wince, I bend down to grab two corners of the rug. Being careful not to let any of the glass spill out, I remove it from the top of the trapdoor.
Lena's body is impaled on the table leg a few feet away, so I don't need to move her. But a sudden thought flashes through my mind as I glance at the curtains covering one of the windows. With a slight limp, I reach it and pull the fabric off the hangers, the bright sunlight nearly blinding me. Walking back to the couch, I throw the cover over Lena's body. It's big enough to hide her entire corpse and most of the blood stained glass shards.
I don't want Jennie to see that gruesome sight. She's already been through too much, I can only imagine her state from just hearing the fight. Besides, I don't need her throwing up all over the place. The stench of vomit mixed with blood is far from pleasant. Speaking from experience.
I hook my fingers under the latch and swing it open. Jennie's terrified eyes greet me. Her body tenses when the door crashes to the floor, but relaxes right away when she recognizes me. She probably feared that I was Lena.
"I'm so glad you're okay!" she exclaims, bouncing up and wrapping me in a hug. My body tenses at the contact, so I just awkwardly stand there with my arms hanging at my sides. She then peers up at me and softly gasps. “Your… your face!” Her hand brushes the cuts on my skin. I flinch at the contact.
"I'm fine,” I say in a hoarse tone that definitely doesn't support my statement.
“No, you're not fine. You–”
I gently pry her off me. “I said I'm fine, Jennie.”
Jennie's eyes wander across my face with a type of worry I've never seen before. Genuine worry for me. She looks like she wants to say something in response, but nervously bites her lip instead.
She glances around. "What happened to-" her voice trails off. Her eyes widen in shock as they land on the beige curtains draped over Lena's body. Bloodstains have already started to seep through the thin fabric. "You... you killed her?"
I raise my eyebrows. “What else did you think was going to happen?”
Jennie returns her gaze towards me, her horrified eyes penetrating through me. "I don't know, but this… the way she…" her voice falters.
I take a deep breath and soften my tone. "Do you think this was easy for me? I may be a killer, but Lena was still my friend.”
“I… I thought she wasn't your friend?”
Jennie has a point. Lena was never my friend, as it turns out. Not a real one, anyway. But we were still friends in a way that counts. When you're someone who kills for a living, your options for friends become limited.
“Look, I killed her because she was a threat. Not to me, but to you. I didn't want any more chances of her hurting you. Do you have a problem with that?”
Jennie glances towards the covered body, then back to me. She blinks away the tears spilling out as her mouth gently twitches. Her eyes drop to the floor. “I… don't know.”
Bits of glass crunch under my boots as I step closer to her. Lifting my hand up to her face, I brush away a few loose hair strands from her eyes. I tuck my fingers under her chin, tilting her head up so her eyes meet mine. “I know our values and perception of things are different. But sometimes, you have to do what you have to do in order to survive. Like when you shot us at the café. Which, by the way, ow.”
Jennie winces. “Sorry again.”
“And if killing someone, even if I knew them, is the only way to ensure your well-being, then I'm going to do it. As many times as it takes. I won't let anyone hurt you. Is that okay with you?”
She sniffles, an incomprehensible amount of emotions flickering in her watery eyes. A few seconds pass. Out of the corner of my eye, a squirrel hops through one of the chopped cracks in the front. It skitters away when I shift my leg, the crunching glass scaring away the little rodent.
“Yes.” Jennie finally answers.
That one word sends ripples of relief down my spine. I remove my hand from her face. “Good. Now we need to focus on getting out of here.”
Jennie frowns. "Why?"
I inhale sharply. What the hell does she mean by “why?” Isn't it obvious? "Because they know where we are,” I say out loud. “And I can guarantee that Lena is not the only one Eve has sent after us. So grab your stupid backpack or whatever. We're leaving in five."
“Don't you…” She gestures towards me, concern furrowing her eyebrows. “Need to take care of that? I can… help?”
I scoff. “No, I will just take some ... supplements and change. I'll be fine. No.” I raise my hand to stop her when she opens her mouth. “Don’t worry about me, okay? What's important is that you are in one piece.”
Indecision flickers in her brown eyes before she nods slowly. Everything I said, I meant it. Because I am sure that even one cut on her arm would send her into a coma.
"Where are we going?" she asks.
I'm not even sure. There are a few KSD hideouts in New York City and the surrounding areas, but I know that they will look there first thing. But I'll think of something while we're on the road, because we're like sitting ducks out here.
"Also, I have to call Mina to let her know that I'm okay," Jennie adds. "I saw that I had a bunch of messages and missed calls from her... before you... snatched my--"
"Fine, you can call her at a payphone. But you will only thirty seconds, not a second more. Got it?"
A few seconds lapse before she nods. "Yes. So where are we going?"
I let out a frustrated sigh. "I'm not sure for now, okay? I'll think of a place on our way back to the city."
Thankfully, she doesn't reply with another one of her annoying questions. She walks around me, her small feet barely making a sound when she steps on the debris. Once she disappears into another room, I straighten up and immediately regret it as pain shoots up my upper body. I definitely need to do something about it if I want to be in a condition to stay alive and protect Jennie.
With a frustrated sigh, I kick away the feather-covered pillow lying near the destroyed couch and approach the kitchen. My boots continue to emit a crunching sound. Glancing downwards, several goose feathers are stuck to the bottom. Apparently some of the glass pieces have lodged themselves in the soles. I exhale in annoyance.
Turning on the faucet, I run my bloodstained hands under the warm water. The liquid turns a light red color as it flows down the drain, my skin returning to its light tan color. Dark purple and red spots remain on my bruised knuckles. Turning my hands, I smile at the sight. To me, they indicate that I've done my job. It fills me with a sense of pride, like it proves my strength, spirit, and victory.
Leaving the faucet on, I pull the stupid purple sweatshirt over my head with a pained grimace. Standing there in my black sports bra, I ball the shirt up and throw it aside before I gingerly unwrap the blood-soaked gauze from my waist. Biting back a cry, I finally remove it and let it drop to the floor in a stiff heap.
A white hand towel catches my eye. Grabbing it, I soak it with the warm water and place it on the bloody wound. “Fuuuckk,” I hiss, the stinging pain causing my other hand to grip the edges of the sink. Leaning on it, I fight my way through the blinding pain as I finish washing the blood off me. I throw the now-red towel on the granite counter and inspect the wound.
It has stopped bleeding for now, to my relief. The morning sun illuminates the kitchen in a bright light, showing me that Jennie had actually not done a bad job. The blood-soaked stitches hold the wound close, so I don't have to worry about that. I guess Youtube is not such a bad thing after all.
Speaking of, I don't know what is taking Jennie so long. Maybe I should call out to her to make sure that she's okay, but I decide against it. I'm already doing too much. Besides, a yell is not exactly the best idea, because my throat is still sore from being choked less than an hour ago.
I wrap my stomach with a fresh gauze that had been lying in one of the open cabinets above the stove. Once that's taken care of, I wash my face with the cooled down water as thoughts flow through my mind. More questions to which I still don't have answers to.
A few months ago, I fucking killed a five year old girl for being a witness. And today, I've murdered a KSD assassin and sister for a… I don't know her age but she can't possibly be no more than twenty-one. Why am I doing this? How far exactly has Eve gotten in our minds? Am I... actually doing good in this world, if I was willing to kill a little girl without so much as blinking? Or am I just a puppet, and Eve is the puppeteer? Have I been exploited and used all these years?
I lift my head up just when Jennie rushes out of the room. Drops of water drip down as I glide my hand over my wet face. She's wearing a plain, pastel pink jacket with normal gray jeans and black, pink-striped shoes. Her Hello Kitty backpack is strapped on her back, her nimble finger holding onto the straps. With her hair now pulled back into a ponytail, she looks at me, her eyes widening in awe. Or is it admiration? A flush creeps up her cute, adorable, kitten face. Just looking at her sends my heart skipping a beat.
Earlier this morning, I had asked myself if she really is worth all this trouble. All the blood, sweat, and pain. And now, I may finally have an answer.
Yes, she's worth it.
“Liking the sight?” I smirk. Biting her lip, she averts her eyes from me, unable to pronounce a word. "I'll take that as a yes." I wink. She turns an even brighter sheet of red, much to my amusement.
With a chuckle, I turn off the faucet and walk around the counter. “Are you ready?”
"Yep." She readjusts the backpack on her shoulders.
"What have you got in there? A bunch of mangoes?"
Her face turns redder. "Just some... stuff."
I narrow my eyes on her. As much as I'm tempted to ask what exactly she's got in her obnoxious little pink backpack, I don't. That's not really important right now.
"Okay, whatever. What did you do with my vest and jacket?" I ask.
"Oh... These?" She disappears again into the room next to her and reappears, holding them out to me.
"Yeah." Taking them from her, I throw the jacket on the counter.
“Oh, I thought you'd need this.” Jennie hands me a black T-shirt. I quirk an eyebrow. “For your information, not everything here is pink.” She huffs in annoyance.
Taking the shirt from her, I proceed to pull it over me. I wince as a small stab of pain hits me in the ribs.
"Do you need some he--"
"I got it," I say quickly. Once I put on the shirt, I grab the hole riddled bulletproof vest and pull it over my head. Exhaling sharply, I tighten the vest around me. I'm genuinely surprised that Jennie has black clothing lying around, but I remind myself that this is her parents' cabin. They're probably not as obsessed with pink as she is.
I hand my jacket back to her. “Put this on.”
“Again?” Jennie pouts.
“Yes. We might encounter some… dangers on the way, and I'd hate to have to leave your dead body in a ditch.”
Jennie's eyes widen at my last words, but at my amused smile, she huffs and takes the jacket from me. While she PUTS it on,
I grab Lena's gun and check the bullets before tucking it in my vest. I walk towards the front door and look outside the torn down door to inspect the area before I motion for Jennie to follow me.
Sunlight streams through the thick forest. Only a few clouds scatter across the blue skies. The position of the sun indicates that it's already late morning.
Lena's mode of transportation is nowhere in sight, but she is known to leave her motorcycle or car a few miles away and walk the rest of the way.
My own motorcycle is still parked in the same place where I had left it before passing out. It's a bit dusty from the gravel roads, but it doesn't have a scratch on it. I quickly check it for any tracking devices or explosives, but find nothing. Still, I tell Jennie to stay twenty feet away while I kick it to life. I don't want all my recent actions to be for nothing if her body blows up into pieces.
"Okey-dokey, looks like everything is fine. You can put your backpack into the cargo." Climbing off the motorcycle, I unlock the storage compartment under the seat.
"Why?"
"Because your stupid backpack can fuck things up." I roll my eyes impatiently. "Either put that thing in here, or it's getting thrown out. It better have something important enough."
Jennie huffs in complaint but hands me her backpack anyway. I stash it in the small compartment and slam it shut before motioning for her to hop on.
Hesitation flitters over her face when I hand her the one helmet. "Look Jennie, just climb on behind me and hold on to me as hard as you can. Just like earlier. Okay?"
"But what if-"
"No what ifs. Get the fuck on, twiggy."
Jennie nods before taking the helmet from me and strapping it on. Swinging her right leg over the motorcycle, she seats herself behind me. She wraps her skinny arms around my waist and clasps her fingers. The warm pressure of her body against my back causes tingles to surge up my spine. Shaking away the feeling, I remove the leg stand and steer the motorcycle away from the cabin. Clouds of dust trail behind us as the destroyed cabin disappears from view.
Jennie's hold on me increases slightly as her chin rests on my shoulder. Her helmet presses against my head, but it isn't the slightest discomfort for me. The wind whips against my exposed face, but it's a good thing. Because I need to make sure I don't fall unconscious on the road.
I'm still not sure if what I'm doing is the best course of action; if I'm insane for protecting someone I've known for a few hours. I've spent the majority of my life seeking revenge for my mother's death. Days, months, years filled with hate and anger.
Am I really just going to give up on all my beliefs for... a little twig?
But the truth is, I am already doing it. It's too late to reverse everything. Experiencing that warmth seeping into my iced heart and melting away all the frozen pain... It's refreshing. Healing. Rejuvenating.
Even now, with the wind rushing by my ears and the warm embrace of Jennie's arms around me... It is... calming.
A sense of calm which I haven't felt for a long time.
As I drive out onto the highway and leave the gravel road, an ominous, spine-crawling revving sound echoes from behind. I turn around, the unmistakable golden serpent logo on the front of the dark red motorcycle coming into view.
That symbol can only belong to one person.
As I twist the throttle to speed up, the vehicle behind us does as well. I glance back again, and my worst fears are confirmed. Those dark skin hands gripping the handlebars. The coily brown hair peeking out from the helmet.
Serena Nightshade: recruited from an underground fight club at an early age. Apparently, Eve has sent another one of her best KSD assassins aside from me and Lena.
Jennie shrieks near my ear, making me wince as a gunshot rings out and a bullet ricochets off the highway road beside us.
Word Count: 2867
Bold, underlined, and capitalized word "PUTS" indicates the 20k mark.