Assassin [H.S.]

Fifteen

09:45am
Date: April 2nd, 2018
Location: Ashland, Oregon

Sloane Davenport

It's been nearly 8 hours since we've kept tracked of Damien's location and there still hasn't been any sign of recovery from him or anyone from our rescue team. By now, we should've gotten closer to Lyses or a SIDD agent by now.

My insomnia is getting worse when I try to fall asleep. I thought the sleeping pills and Nyquil would do the trick, but it's the way my body and brain don't correspond to it properly.

I feel like everytime I want to push it away, it'll bite me back in the ass.

I'm stuck in the back of a squished,musty van with Devon and Cory as we try to pin anyone outside of Damien's pin point location in a neighborhood.

The house is just right across from where we're parked, hidden within the normal suburbian cars.

Cory is still keeping track of Damien's every movement while Devon watches from the backseats, analyzing people walking in or out of the house. There's only one car parked outside, a beat up Chevy truck matching the house's uncared features.

The lawn's brown crumpled grass hasn't been watered as it grows a little taller, and the paint off the white fences turns to yellow, chipped away as the life of the house is at it's grave.

All I can do is just take a close peek at what I used to see before I left Ashland, the last time I actually saw my house before everything was thrown out a window.

It was only a matter of time as I could just stare cry right in the middle of the street and wish that I'd never seen it again. But that never would've happened because Uncle James would've saved me from getting run over.

Every memory there just weighed my down, holding my past into a bottom rock oblivion.

At some point, I had to let go of what used to be my happiness and the life I had before joining CASTA.

The sense of normalcy just never rebounded to me ever since; I can only imagine what my life would've been like if I didn't choose to be part of a secret spy organization.

Every single part of me hopes that I can one day leave it all behind and just forget that I didn't have to lie to people face to face about who I truly am.

I feel like I want to shout everything into a void, and not give a single fuck about what it means to me or them.

When people lie to your face, a gust of hate, anger, manipulation and unforgiveness blows right through you, and all you can think about is just why.

A certain why is the only reason that people can feel misled by what is untrue and unreal about a person they used to love.

Taking one more glance from the back window, I turn away and try to busy myself. Cory turns away from his computer, scooting next to me shuffling every data based file.

"M'okay, so we haven't seen any progress with the movements and it seems that he's being held hostage inside. The only way we can see is if we can make small talk about some made up shit." He sighs, tired from how many hours he's been up to keep track of Damien.

For once I feel sorry for him. His eyebags are drooping down to his upper cheeks while his eyes are twitching to keep him from falling asleep. Cory's not one to be a pessimistic leader, but he actually puts in more of the work than the three of us combined.

"So how we gonna handle this, do we ding dong ditch or just ask a stupid new neighbor question?" Devon asks, chewing on her gum while she positions herself facing Cory and I.