A SOUNDLESS SIGH passed through my lips, heaving a small gust of air and leaving no trace of the action. In the distance, a clock ticked, though it was slow and dramatic, taunting the students of their situation inside the dull, steaming room. Outside a window shut tightly, an invisible breeze blew and called to the teenagers, begging them to step outside and taste the cool air once more. It tickled their thoughts, irritating them and frustrating each one amid the humid environment that was the science classroom.

I tapped my pencil drearily against my blank paper, staring through Mr Warren like he was not even there. It was the most boring class I had had to sit through, considering I had all of the notes and lesson plans at home, and how much the man enjoyed to draw out every single word like he was speak-singing an opera to us in the form of science.

Really, it seemed like only Peter and a few others were really listening, scribbling furiously like any of the words was actually important. I watched the boy as he focused on everything the teacher said, admiring snidely how much he cared about his grades. The boy was a hard worker, I had to give him that much credit.

He looked up and caught my eye, turning a light pink and smiling slightly. I made sure to exaggerate my motion of happiness, returning his gaze with a slight wave and a smile that could cure a disease if it really cared to. He had to believe I cared in every way possible, even in the sauna-like room that made me feel like a chicken slowly boiling to death.

"Alright class," he ended, waving a stack of papers in the air like a lazy, fraying flag, "here are the tests from last week that I've marked and will give back to you. Please do not share your grade with others, as that is for your eyes and your eyes only, and if you have any problems with what is written on the paper, talk to me after class."

Peter was one of the first to have his test handed to him, and though he made no outward clue as to how he did, I could see through the paper; a giant 100 scrawled across. As to be expected.

However, as my stack of white papers fell, my heart sank; it was a seventy per cent. Just that, a seventy per cent. No matter how I had tried to remember the information fed to me, copying out all the notes that would be in every lesson and forcing myself to repeat the foreign terms and phrases back to Inga, I could not pass the test at the same level as all the other students, at Midtown. Perhaps, I should have gone with the option of cheating that Inga had presented me with.

It was horrible, to sit and realise just what had happened and what I had inadvertently done. Yes, my mission was to watch Peter and monitor everything he said or did, but my brilliant mind was my facade, my world, my biggest connection to Emily and her perfect life. With a sixty, I couldn't fly by undetected, nor could I play the part of a straight-A perfectly annoying Midtown High Student.

I shoved the test into my bag and sighed in relief as the bells finally blared, signalling the end of the first period. Shooting a smile to Peter and almost jumping with the joy of escaping the heat, I hurried out to the door-

"Can I talk to you for a second, Emily?"

The name almost flew right past me, forgetting that that identity belonged to me, but the steady clap on my shoulder drew me right back to reality. "Um, sir, I have class-"

He cut me off, shaking his head and gesturing to a now-empty desk. "I'll write you a note, and it'll be fine. I just wanted to catch you now while I had a spare period."

"Oh. Alright."

"Now, Emily, I understand that life has probably been hectic lately, what with moving to a whole new country and all the technical details of that to settle in a new school, which probably leaves you in a stressful situation. Is that right?"

Technical details? What were the technical details in moving to a new country? It had taken mere hours to fly on a plane here, which left us to set up our apartment and figure out good strategies, but that was about it. However, he was searching for a reason for a supposed stellar student to fail a test, so I would have to flow with it. "Yes, sir. It has been tough."

"Well, that makes sense, and I understand that." His smile took up much of his face and I hid a grimace as he revealed yellowing teeth, one with a strip of spinach on top. "That's why I understand your struggle on this test, and I'm not going to include it on your records."

"What?"

Mr Warren seemed to be practically glowing at his 'generosity' as he held up a file folder almost the same colour as his decaying teeth. "In here, there is a collection of tests and assignments you have done, whether to make up for things you missed or assignments actually done here in class. That test will not be counted towards them, as it would clearly bring down your mark too much."

"Oh. Thank you?"

"You're welcome." However, his little spiel of graciousness had not seemed to finish, as he crossed the room to grab another stack of papers, this one considerably shorter than the folder. "However, in order to make up for it, you need to hand in this assignment on the test we did to ensure you understand the information. It'll be due a week from now, is that alright?"

I nodded, accepting the papers but mentally stabbing him numerously in hatred. "Of course, thank you, sir."

"You're most welcome." I could feel his eyes on me as I walked away, speaking up at the last second. "Oh, and, Emily?"

"Yes?"

"You know, my doors are always open if you want to talk about anything."

Like that would ever happen. "Yes, right...thanks."

...

I sat alone, on the floor of my nearly-empty bedroom, tears drying into silver trenches on my face. It was very early in the morning, around one, and Inga along with the rest of the world would be asleep. I should be asleep; it was what people did. However, the thought of escaping back into the world of nightmares and forever lost faces and vulnerability didn't seem like something I wanted. 

Another dream - no, more of a bad memory - had surfaced, taunting me and knocking me out of the world of sleep, leaving me to rock alone on the floor and try to erase it from my mind. At the Academy, I never suffered from such things; sleep was a grey area where I hung in limbo between two worlds, floating until I was awoken and forced into the same routine of the day before. As a child, I was plagued by night terrors, but that was before I grew older and let go, just like everyone else. Feelings were unheard of; feelings were nothing but silly weaknesses that would only hold us down.

However, a thousand and one miles away from the grey walls and vacant stares, everything was different. I had lost the shields that held me together, and it was as if I was falling apart, crumbling into a vulnerable shell of the right Freya. Things that never mattered before now held more importances than I could have ever imagined and the blood on my hands now stained the skin and wouldn't wash away, no matter how many tears I cried and how hard I tried. And now, every death on my account meant something, not just a faceless casualty for the greater good.

Her breath was hot on my neck, sending chills down my spine and making it hard to concentrate on the gun in my trembling hands. Her ever-present cane dug into the small of my back, reminding me of the consequences if I failed. "Перестать дрожать."  

The saliva in my mouth had dried up, leaving me to run my tongue over and over my mouth, trying to bring some feeling back into my mouth. This shouldn't be scary; I had done this before, never flinching to send a bullet spiralling through the air to land on the board several feet away. Every time was a bullseye, and every time I was passed through. So, what was different?

The board was gone, and in place of it, a faceless figure, covered in a long tarp that shrouded them and held them down. It was supposed to be easier to do without looking at their faces, but the feeling of dread building in my stomach didn't go away, nor did the fear clenching my heart with an iron fist. There was someone under that tarp, someone who had blood rushing through their veins, blood that would soon be spilt by me.

I scrunched my eyes shut and begged for the relief to flood me sooner than later, steadying my grip and raising it to face his head. It would be quick and painless, hitting them right in the skull and immediately killing them. They would feel nothing. Besides, if they did, it was only just; they were criminals, and criminals didn't deserve to live.

She barked at me to hurry up, and my heart beat faster, finger twitching on the lever that would send death to the body in front of me. I had to do this. There was no other way, there was no way out of this. I could do this, and I would do this. I needed to do this-

-it was all over in an instant; a single bang, a single cry, and a single body falling from the chair, limp, to the floor. Only a blink of an eye and it was done; the task was carried out. Relief flooded my body and I fell back, watching two men grab the covered body and carry them out, a small stream of blood following behind. It was all done.

"следующий."

My heart stopped, and I whirled around to see her face, hoping it was all in jest, but there was no sign of a joke on her face. She only watched me blankly, gesturing for me to turn around, to face the next body brought in. "продолжать."

I never saw their faces, and that was a good thing, for I knew if I had, their faces would plague every thought, every part of my mind. It was easier to simply imagine them as nothing, dismantled puppets propped up as some sort of test. I could lie to myself and say that I didn't really kill them; that the bullets were blanks, and five minutes later they would get up and brush it off, go back to their old lives. However, try as I did, it was impossible to erase the knowledge that I was a murderer, through and through. That would never change.

My back against the wall and eyes fixated on nothing, in particular, I sat until the first rays of sunlight hit the ceiling and birds began to chirp and cars filled the streets below. My tears had dried and wouldn't fall, but my heart was slowly breaking apart, bit by bit. 

It was only a matter of time before I cracked in this new world - that was if I hadn't done so already.

Okay, so, gotta be honest I got hella excited because I thought this was a different chapter, one of my favourites - turns out it's not, that's chapter nineteen, but hell, this chapter is important too. I think it's important to see more of Freya/Emily's thoughts and how much she's changed/is changing while exposed to this world of actual people who, you know, don't kill people because they have to prove themselves and growing closer to Peter and 'normal people'. Is that a passing explanation? Who knows - basically, this chapter is important, and has a lot of hints to the drama that will happen later on in the book. Just know that folks, everything happens for a reason. *cue cheesy music*

I'm kind of tempted to change my update schedule to twice a week, but I'm not sure- as of right now, I update on Fridays, so this book would be finished in March. However, I'm just stuck finishing the last two chapters aka the hardest things to write in my lifetime, and since it's all written out and just needs a heavy editing, I can update more freely. So, would y'all like it if I started updating chapters on Wednesdays and Fridays? Let me know kiddies.

Thank you for reading!