Awesome cover by @Sweet_chilli (it will be released soon) Follow her b/c she’s a doll

QUICK REMINDER> Remember haja sangue and what rush hour is (when the teams break off from the game and become independent. When Jess killed gang leader Max to prove herself to Levi and won the games).

Anyways, jam’in out to Feel So Good by Mase (#THROWBACKTHURSDAY) and Iggy’s new song “Fancy” and TRAP (who doesn’t like the base droppin)?

Writing instead of studying for math…Not good.

**NOT EDITED—FOR SERIOUS SHIZZLE THIS TIME**

+++

Rush hour gets your blood pumping.  It gives you a taste of the adrenaline and high radar of precaution.  Rush hour is just like our reality here as a Sniper.  Think fast, hit hard, aim right, and never miss.  Each second counts towards the next.  Each move impacts the one after.  Sometimes you don’t have all the time in the world.  And you’re gonna have to gather your wits, break apart from those you’ve trusted, and fight for yourself. 

All to survive.

My tongue curled around the crusty drool at the corner of my lips.  Blinking, my vision failed to adjust and I tried rubbing my eyes.  As soon as my arm lifted, a sharp pain snapped me awake and I howled.

Curiosity stringing my nerves, I slowly stared down.  A loose arm was sprawled across my bare stomach, infected with goose bumps and scratches.  My arm.  Ugly stains of green, dark blue and purple coated my abdomen, crawling just under my sports bra.  The abrupt realization stirred the boiling pot of confusion, more cuts along my chest.  The sign of the white bandage on my lower stomach didn’t help, it soaked with red dye. 

That wasn’t dye. 

I attempted to sit up and groaned, pain exploding in my ribcage.  My eyes rolled back, shutting close for the pain to smother.  What the hell happened… The last thing I recollected was blacking out in Levi’s arms, Vamp’s voice spilling into my mind now. 

“Fine, but she failed her fucking test!  She’s dead anyways and you know it.” 

My eyes weighed a ton.  It was too much.  How was I his sister?  Did I know him?  Was I related to him? 

Now I guess they thought I was unconscious because the last thing I heard was, “You know very well this wasn’t part of the test.” 

“They’re going to kill her, Levi.”

“I know.”

Coldness swept my body, dragging from shoulders to my toes.  Kill her.  My lungs tightened and I lurched over the bed.  Blurry chunks tumbled onto the floor and constant gags and gasps for air starting to be overwhelming.  Once I was empty, I turned over on the bed, head hitting the pillow. 

The pain was buzzing now.  It hurt to move—it hurt everywhere.  It hurt to know. 

I was going to die. 

Funny.  I expected myself to break into tears and pour out all my depression, confusion and whatever was left of my sanity to form a lake where I’d drown in sorrows.  The last thing I expected was to feel nothing. 

Perhaps I was okay with dying.  I accepted death.  It was inevitable.  One day I would have to leave, it was part of being human.  We’d take that awfully big adventure to our forever beds and leave behind a legacy, whether it’d either be good or bad.  That was our choice to make.

While I laid on the firm bed, I thought about what I left behind—what I would be remembered as.  I thought hard and long and eventually, I fell asleep without an answer, accepting the fact that it would be the last time my eyes opened. 

+++

For a moment I was in heaven.  I mentally laughed.  Me—going to heaven.  Best joke of the year.  Did God let Earth’s murders enter his home? Ha. That’ll be the day. 

Awake and still cold on the rock bed, it had been several days and no one had bothered to join me in this empty hospital room.  A bagel and glass of water would appear two times a day, my delivery man or woman arriving whenever I was asleep. 

Over time I examined the rows of vacant hospital beds and dusty tiled floors, daylight spilling out of large windows behind me.  It was the only light source, whenever the night ruled it was pitch black here. 

I hadn’t bothered to stand, incapable of doing so.  I came to the conclusion I relied on the healing bath too much, not experiencing the true pain as a survivor until now. 

And it was a bitch. 

Throbbing headaches, squeezing pain around the calves and sore arms; I was begging whatever God to end this now.  Someone hated me; rather watching me go through a slow process of agonizing pain instead of snipping my life line. 

Time was such a bittersweet thing.  The patience made it relaxing.  The impatience drove insanity to a new level.  My insanity was running the clock.  It felt like months but it was really weeks.  Weeks of isolation seemed to numb the mind.  I would go for walks in circles once in a while, trying the locked doors and remaining silent.  I didn’t know why I hadn’t attempted an escape—maybe because I was okay with doing nothing.  After all, that was all I did for sixteen years of my life.

The weeks dragged and I was beginning to think I was in a prison.  In a prison full of loneliness in fact.  How unfortunate I wasn’t accompanied by scurrying mice or creeping spiders.  An unimpressive odour probably coated my body, going weeks without a shower.  The toilet was rusty in the corner, flushible behind a curtain.      

Soon my back ached from being in the same bed position for too long, and I made a small shift that unsuccessfully made any difference.  This was a repetitive problem, and usually it was solved by pacing on the spot.     

At that moment, some part of my brain turned on and I noted I had made this a prison.  Closing myself off and just laying here.  I had to escape now.  I didn’t know why but my body wanted so.  If the powerful cosmic forces weren’t legalizing my death, I guess this was my second chance. 

Anticipating the pain, I absorbed a deep breath and counted.  One…two…three… I heaved myself up, and hissed at the thundering pain from my stomach.  Arms trembling to support, I placed two feet down and sighed.  Time isn’t always a bad thing, it a wonderful remedy for wounds.  However these wounds were deep, time being a slow method. 

I wiggled my toes, bare feet landing on the cool ceramic.  Shivering, I rose and shoved another wince to the back of my throat.  “Here we go.”  I stood in the same boxers and the sports bra, holding the bed as I regained balance.  I gradually cranked my spine straight and grounded my teeth doing so. 

Refusing to glimpse in the mirror, I pushed my greasy hair away from my face.  I felt disgusted by how it clung to my cheeks and rolled a sticky sensation across my shoulders.  I ripped off a loose thread of the shorts and used it to tie my hair, the bun barely carrying but enough to bear. 

The daylight turned darker, clouds blocking the beauty outside.  My body trembling, a white silk robe sat on the opposite bed.  Someone was expecting my presence… When the delicate fabric slipped against my skin, I flinched, it foreign to wear such a soft thing.  I hardly noticed the bowl of water and cloth that sat next.  Dipping the heavenly texture in, I slabbed the cold liquid across the filthy regions, feeling somewhat renewed.  Even a bottle of spray which proved to smell of peaches lay beside.  How humorous.  Daring to take a few squirts, I spark of hope lit my dark world.  

My head was light.  A vibrant buzz melted my mind, things swirled, spinned, flowed.  And then it vanished.

Zombie speed was my walking mode, shuffling quietly towards the doors.  I reached the handles and turned them, baffled they were unlocked. I clutched the robe as I stepped out, into the dark hallway.  A strange silence settled down the corridor.  Wasn’t it daytime?  Where was everyone? Alone, I just kept walking past the identical red doors, embracing the temporary freedom. 

Thunder cracked outside and I jumped.  The sudden movement made me wince, the pain spreading in my ribcage.  Seething, I tried averting my attention to something else and noticed one of the doors were open.  My gut crazily squirmed, my natural instinct flagging, telling me to go in.  Being isolated for days must have rotted my brain because I listened, entering the room with high caution. 

It was similar to my room, the room and furniture engulfed in black.  Except it was larger and had more décor, the bed twice the size and a canopy draped above.  Plus the person by the window was different. 

“You shouldn’t be alive,” the male spoke. 

Instantly recognizing him, I approached Levi, taking in his black suit and messy brown hair.  “Hello to you too,” I responded sickly.  My voice was scratchy from the lack of verbal communication I’ve had—it odd to speak.  I swallowed.  The clouds sucking the light out of the room, I hardly could make out his detailed features and proceeded forward. 

“The Council is still in debate to what they’re going to do with you,” he inquired.  His gaze was distracted by the gray murkiness past the window.  “I tried to release you but I was outvoted.  Besides, you’re still wanted in Hong Kong.  Stepping onto the streets would be a mistake.”

I stepped alongside him, leaning into the curtain.  I nearly squirmed to have the soft fabric brush my skin, not used to it.  “And so they choose to lock me up until then?” 

He kept silent, and I stared up, taking in his unshaved face and faint honey eyes.  His forehead streaked with wrinkles and I wondered aloud, “When did you start becoming a gang leader?” 

His qualities darkened and for a moment, I thought he’d leave me answerless and he answered, “Eighteen.”  I didn’t bother to hide the shock rising in my eyes.  “My parents died that year.  I had to inherit the throne or else the Eagle’s would cause havoc.”  I studied the true distance written on him, cast into a different realm of his own thoughts.  “I didn’t have a choice.  They always told me blood before anything else.  Even before my own selfishness.”  His lips pursed.  “I must honour that.” 

An unpleasant jab entered my gut.  The prying into business that didn’t belong to me didn’t settle well.  Jessie never stuck her nose into other people’s business—she was taught by her parents that it was disrespect. 

“But that was years ago,” he spoke again in his common tone. 

“Levi.  How old are you?” 

He replied, “Twenty.”  Nodding, I followed his longing stare into the grey clumps floating among the sky.  How could a teenager undergo so much pressure at the age of eighteen?  And have no choice… no wonder he worshipped the value of choices.  He understood the consequence and the pain it caused when not able to take in control.  Perhaps that was why he wanted me to gain control; he didn’t want me to experience the pain.  I butchered that; he didn’t care about me.  If he did, it couldn’t possibly be much.  A thunder cracked and I leapt out of my skin. 

Anticipating the chuckle from the gang leader, he took his turn on studying me, masked like a blank canvas.  “Sometimes I forget how young you are…” 

“There’s only a four year difference,” I defended.       

I didn’t think he registered my comment, in another world again.  “How do you think about this?” he asked curiously. 

“Of everything?” I questioned.  He nodded.  I rubbed my lips together, keeping still once another thunder went off.  “At first when I woke in the hospital bed I felt a lot of things.  Scared, angry, depressed, frustrated and most importantly irritated.  As the weeks passed, those emotions soon faded and I felt nothing.  The hours passed as if they never existed—if time never existed.  I learned when you’re cut from the world for a while; it begins to drain your humanity, your civilization.”  I wobbled a tiny smile.  “And leaves a funky scent.”  He nodded with a smile of his own, returning the small gesture.  I roamed over the crazy mud strands falling along his ears, the facial hair climbing up his jaw and the red lines in his eyes.  “Are you okay?”

He nodded, condemned to words as he directed his attention back to the window.  Lightning crackled.  He spoke lowly.  “Don’t you think it’s beautiful how the sky could be so warm, welcoming and refreshing during the daytime?  How the sky drowns in a soft blue, plush, inviting the flowers to reach up to touch.  And then suddenly, it can be consumed by darkness and gloomy swarms of clouds, destroying the gentle atmosphere, turning the beauty into such wickedness the sky even cackles.” 

Unsure where he was going with the erratic topic, I went along, “I suppose.”  

He hadn’t heard me once again, lost.  “It can change so fast—so capricious; the weather; Mother Nature.  And we can’t do anything about it; sitting, watching, obeying, allowing it to happen; static.”  The distant look disappeared, and sadness swept over as fast as it came.  He returned, looking to me.  Utter amazement was now cast across, eyes sparkling.  Something changed.  “Wonderful, isn’t it?”

The thunder and lightning struck the skies.  Something hid behind those eyes.  He unlocked the door enough to give a peek of what he truly was; no lies, no secrets.  I felt that was special to him and decided it was a hush-hush that was to be kept.  But he quickly turned the key, locking up his truth, burying it with different emotions.  He was a mixed man, layers and layers covering the real man he was.  I’d be damned to think he’d been through more than I ever have and, briefly, I pitied him. 

However I had this urge.  To peel his layers one at a time. Enough for him to warm up to me—to trust me, enough to give me answers.  But also because I enjoyed the thought of him trusting me.

I softened my gaze, easing the tightness of the robe around my waist.  “Why do you always say ‘wonderful’?” I spoke above a whisper.

A tint of sadness creased a line along his forehead.  His gaze drifted towards the window, watching the pitter patter of raindrops hit the glass.  “Because to survive in this world, you just have to keep telling yourself a silver lining is past every cloud; every deal, every glass, every lie, every kill, every death.  And no matter how dark your life gets, there’s always something wonderful that makes it worth living for.”

Another layer fell to the ground.  I would never have guessed freedom would be a desire.  Being a man with power, you’d think he was free.  Yet I saw a caged boy standing in front, filled with wisdom, bruises and hope.  Having the entire illegal part of a continent loaded on your shoulders at eighteen really damaged you, and not only that but also locked you up. 

The urge to hug him itched my arms.  I forced them to remain by my sides.  We talked more, a few laughs, light teases and jokes exchanged.  Mostly about what life was like before hell hit us both.  He told me about his normal life before his parents revealed their real occupation when he was thirteen.  I told him about my daily routines, how my parents were never home with long hour shifts and Isaac my only friend. 

It was easier to talk to him than I thought, watching him laugh encouraging me to share more.  I liked his laugh.  I think I might have liked him.  Oh how would I know?  I never liked someone my entire life.  I usually stayed out of people’s worlds as they did with mine. 

Finishing a story about when Isaac tried catching me when I jumped off a tree, and ended up breaking his arm, it dawned on me that he wasn’t paying attention at all.

My brows met.  My lips pulled in.  “Stop staring,” I said.

He continued to stare, honey eyes not allowing me to leave.  “I’m thinking of one word right now.”

 I cocked a brow.  “What nasty, cruel, immature word are you thinking of?”  Banter was weaved through my words as I ticked the list off my fingers.  “Nerd?  Dork?  Loser?  Wallflower?  Dumbass?  Idiot?  Loner?”

He leaned in, closing the space between us.  A strange glint flickered across his eyes that seemed to unexpectedly entice me.  “Wonderful.  Jessie Daniels, you are wonderful.” 

...

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...

...

You are my wonderful, he thought. 

Stopping himself before he did something he would regret, he shifted away, breaking the spell he knew both of them were under.  A spell the Council told him to build.  And so did he.  But for different reasons.

He laced his fingers with hers.  “Come.” 

Her cute face swirled in puzzlement.  “What do you mean?” 

“We’re going out tonight.” 

+++

Has anyone ever read ‘Throne of Glass’ by Sarah J. Maas ? I just finished reading it—I finished it so fast—holy crap it’s good. It’s my second favourite book (besides Graceling by Kristin Cashore which is the best). 

Who knew I’ve always had a thing for fantasy books?  You think I’d be good at writing fantasy? I love reading those fantasy adventure books with the heroine as an assassin. 

Sorry. I’ve gotten off topic.  I’m not going to bother you with why I haven’t updated in almost 3 weeks (considers homework, partying, reading, camping, heartbreak, boys, food, and dancing) 

AND BTW: The only reason why she seems so normal after the weeks of isolation is because of the drug put into the spray, it easing her mind.  Just a little note to the smart ass people <3 Love you.

Hopefully top 3 in SciFi and Action? Maybe? *shoots wicked grin*

Dedication to someone who can guess my name.  Hint, it starts with an A.  And to those who know because I told you, don’t share.  ;)