Rebel Rebel - Deadly Class [ 1 ]

Chapter 5

When the cops showed up, everyone ran away. Saya grabbed my hand and led me upstairs, exiting through the window and jumping from roof to roof until we were at a safe distance, then we walked back to the school, ready to sleep it off.

Sundays were always my favorite day of the week since I was a kid. Father allowed me to sleep in, the only day when my training was pushed back to noon, the only day when I felt like a normal kid, watching TV and not worrying about which way was the most efficient to take down someone three times my size and weight.

But my good mood was totally ruined when someone knocked on my door restlessly, making me groan and get out of bed to open the damn door ready to snap at whoever was at the other side. Plans changed when I saw the state the young boy was in. Marcus was a total mess.

"Can I come in?" I nod, and he enters the room, sitting on the bed when I motion him to do so. He sits in front of me, looking at his hands, making me pity him a little. I was right, I knew I was right, but I didn't think it would be such a blow for him, but again, he wasn't as used to murder as we were.

"What happened? You look like shit."

"You know how to make a guy feel special, huh?" he asks trying to joke, but his words were shaking. "Lin took me to his funeral. I cried it out."

"Told you it would help. Wanna talk about it now?"

"He was a murderous piece of shit. Lin said I made the world a better place, so why I feel like shit?" he asks, looking into my eyes. "Why is my conscience screaming at me? How-how can I do this every time without losing my mind? How does it make me different from any of them? If he deserved it, who says I don't' either, who says any of us doesn't deserve it?"

"Hey, hey, breath, Marcus." I tell him, grabbing his hand and stopping his rant. "If you didn't feel bad about it, you'd be like Brandy, Chico, like those assholes that don't see beyond it. You are allowed to feel bad about it, and you will. Every time. And then, with time, you won't. Hold to that guilt, you'll miss it, it's a reminder you are human."

"You don't feel it anymore?" he asks me, this time him playing with my fingers, his breathing becoming more regular.

"Not really. But we're talking about you."

"I don't' want to talk about it or about me, I want to talk about you, about anything else." He requests softly, almost begging.

"Hela's the Nordic goddess of death, my parents knew very well who they wanted me to be, who they expected me to be. That's why Lex calls me "Goddess", and because it annoys me." I reply, answering the questions he asked back at the party. "My legacy, my future, it's complicated yet simple. My father is the head of the biggest networks of assassins; he rules the world, pretty much. Direct contact with every single president or monarch in the world. He decides when someone needs to go away, he decides what matters should start and who's war needs to end. And I'm the heir of it.

>> "He trained me since before I could talk; my first kill was when I was twelve. It was a woman; she had tried to kill an innocent child who stole bread from her. He and his sister were starving, she didn't want to share. I drove my knife into her chest, and I saw the life fade form her green eyes. That's something you don't forget. After that, I moved on with my training, national stuff and then international. The counter went higher and that's my reputation. People fear me, they know I can kill them in thirty different way in less than thirty seconds and get away with it, so they respect me. They also think I'm a sociopathic bitch, which it's not true but I don't really mind. What was the other question?"

"The poison?" he asks, in his eyes a mix of anxiety and curiosity. He didn't know if he wanted to know more, but he was curious, too curious for his own good.

"Father's training. Building resistance to different poisons, to low and high temperatures, to the lack of water, food or vision... He's a good teacher, covered all areas."

"He sounds like a dick who tries to kill you, to be honest." Marcus whispers, making me chuckle.

"Fathers make their kids stronger, mothers teach them love and compassion. That's what they used to say." I reply, looking at him, smiling sadly. "But he wasn't that bad, we had good moments. He didn't' abuse me if that's what you mean, he made me stronger, so I would never be a victim, not like he was when he was a kid. He gave me the chance to protect myself and those I care about. My father loves me, he made sure I know it, but he can be a bit of an ass most of the time."

"What about your mother?"

"Missing, running, dead... I don't know. She wasn't the motherly type, allegedly she loved us, but she didn't know how to do the whole family thing."

"I'm sorry." He softly says.

"Oh don't be, we were never close. You can't miss someone you never had. Only long for the idea of it, but it's a waste of time, the idealization of it sounds silly anyway."

We stay in silence for a little while, now it's time for Marcus finger's to play with mine, I can feel him playing again the scenario in his pretty little head. The guy on the dumpster, the funeral, the guilt. Maybe even my words.

"You'll feel better once you sleep; you just need to stop thinking about it." I advise him, running my free hand through my hair.

"Easier said than done."

"Everything is easier said than done. C'mon, you should sleep."

"You know? It's the first time in a long time I get to sleep in an actual bed." he states, smiling excitedly, making me smile. Such a normal thing for all of us, meant the world to him. His excitement made me truly smile, yet a pinch of pain appeared on my chest. He lived on the streets for a long time, for what I heard, but I never asked. Figured out it wasn't something he'd like to talk about, and that he didn't need my pity either.

"Well, then you should go back to it."

"You're kicking me out? Ouch." He dramatically brings his hand to his heart, faking pain, making me laugh.

"Yeah, I am kicking you out, actually. I'm not one to cuddle, Arguello."

"You're breaking my heart, DuBois." He smirks, leaning closer to me, making me chuckle, seeing his intentions behind his boyish manners.

"Too bad for you, that's exactly my plan." I tell him smirking before connecting or lips, his hand on my waist moving me, so I'm sitting on his lap, mine messing up his hair as we keep kissing, in hopes his minds gets foggy, and his obsessive thinking doesn't bring him closer to insanity over that inconsequential dead man.