Rebel Rebel - Deadly Class [ 1 ]

Chapter 9

When I was a little girl, Father brought home a little baby. He had raven dark hair, and in contrast to my hazel eyes, his bright blue eyes seemed to pierce your soul. I was told that this was my brother, my little brother. Now, I was a smart seven years old, the little boy looked nothing like me, not like my father, but he had Mikaela's eyes. I never told my father that I knew the truth, nevertheless we both made a silent pact, the kid was a DuBois now, and he should be trained, raised and loved like one.

I feel my breath grow heavier; my senses go high, my head spinning, making me feel dizzy. My throat was burning, and I wanted to scream and cry, but I couldn't. I couldn't let the anxiety, the panic I felt right now control me, I had to focus on her. And every passing second my self-control grew thinner.

"He's a kid! Your kid!"

"What did you want me to do, Hela?"

"Oh I don't know, not throwing your kid under the blade for starters. Yeah, that would have been nice." I spit making her internally roll her eyes, her bored expression making me want to kick something, her preferably.

"Your father doesn't know, or at least he didn't last time I checked. Henrik was at the boarding school, but I guess they must have informed him already."

"So you sell us to Gods know how many governments, and now you give your own child up for torture? Brilliant." I scoff, retracting my knife from her throat. "Didn't you believe in the Gods? I was never religious, but even I know a particular Goddess who'd be up for your eternal suffering."

"Frigg will forgive me; self-preservation was never a sin."

"But I won't forgive you." I state.

Before I can reach for her, I feel someone grab my wrist. Turning around, I kick them on the stomach, and bring their head into my knee; crashing it and making they fall. It's Kuroki, he's a Kuroki. Looking up at from the floor, I see three men, wearing the same masks as the one in the floor is.

One of them runs to me, throwing a punch, but I am faster, and I dodge it. I grab his arm and twist it to the outside; with a kick of my leg, I break it. He kicks me on the side of the leg, making me stumble down to my knee and he grabs my hair but I grab the hidden knife and stab him a couple of times on the abdomen.

Turning around, I see the other two men exiting the backstreet with my mother. I throw the knife, aiming for the leg of one, making him fall.

"Hell no, she's mine." Running to the other, I jump on him. He punches me on the stomach, making me wince, but I throw him at the floor. I get on top of him and start to smash his head against the floor, until he's unconscious or dead.

One of them, the one with the injured leg, he grabs my hair and tugs me down, making me hit my head against the floor. He takes this opportunity and kicks me in the face. The second time he was coming for a kick; I gab his leg and pull it to me. Rolling to the side, I get a hold of the knife and I throw it at him. He falls down dead, the blade in between his eyes.

I get up and spit the blood on my mouth. I send my mother a "don't you dare to move" glare as she smirks at me, a sense of pride on her blue eyes. Grabbing the knife, I get down and grab the neck of the one that was still alive.

"You bastard better hope my brother is not dead, or the Kuroki family will be massacred and erased from this earth." I whisper before stabbing him in the heart, killing him.

"I'm impressed; King's doing its job."

"You don't get to talk!" I accuse her, walking towards her, the knife on her throat again, tainting her pale skin with the velvet red blood on it. "You sold your spare kid, and now you set me to get killed. You are a monster, Mikaela."

"Yes it looks like it." She agrees calmly. "But that's not the truth. I am a survivor, since I was a little kid. I do morally questionable things, I betray and a hurt people, I survive my dear girl. I am not the monster." She pauses and raises her hand to move a stray of hair out of my face, caressing my cheek as she sometimes did when I was little. "You are. You are, it's not a bad thing. Your father would be proud of the stunt you just did. You've become the heartless, coldblooded murderer her always wanted you to be. The perfect weapon. I am so proud of you."

Breathing, I bring the knife down, looking at her face: so untouched, so unbothered. In half a second her face is facing her right, a tiny gasp leaves her lips seconds after the sound of the slap echoes on the alley. She turned her head back to mine, and I cannot see anything in her eyes. She doesn't care, she doesn't even show anger. Guess this is where I got my tiny bit of sociopathy.

"Dad was and is the best man and father anyone could have. He loves you, he took you in and put up with your bullshit, with your betrayals, with your cheating. He chose your happiness over his; he chose your selfishness over all things. But not anymore, not on my watch." I threaten her, whispering on her ear, tracing the contour of her face with the knife. "You, Mikaela Iversen, are no longer under the protection nor a part of the DuBois clan. I hope, for your shake, that Henrik outlives this one. Because if you think that I am a monster now, you won't like me at my worst, Mother." I lash out the last word, full of bitterness, anger and disgust.

Leaving her behind, I clean the knife with the sleeve of the hoodie and hide it on the side as I walk back to the school. I had to call my father, trace a plan to get Henrik back, and then and only then, I'll kill her.

But for now, talking with Saya was the most important thing. I don't believe she knew, she doesn't talk with her brother, she left things pretty nasty but if the moment come down, and it's her family or mine, we need to be clear on that.

When I go back, I ask for Saya and one of the kids tell me they saw her going to the Graveyard. As I walk the stairs I start to think, if they Kuroki were here, they must have tried to get a shot at her too. When I open the door, I distinguish two figures, one is Saya and the other I cannot tell from behind, but I realize it's Marcus when I hear his voice, comforting Saya. So they did come for her too, Gods her family truly were a bunch of dickheads.

I walk back to my dorm, deciding that maybe a hot shower and a sleep will be better than to talk with her or my father right now. When I open the door, I see a black package on the bed. Frowning I open it. There's a note and a little velvet red box inside.

I grab the note "A little proof, DuBois.", and the four words make my whole body shake, anxiety, fear and anger running wild in me. Still shaking I grab the box, opening I want to scream, but my voice does not come out, instead I let it fall, me following as my knees decide to give up.

It's a finger, a finger little enough to be one from a ten years old. The DuBois ring still on it. The ring I gave Henrik when I left for King's. I can't hold it anymore, and I finally let the tears run down my face, wanting either to let them out forever or drown on them.

I cry for Henrik, I cry for my mother, I cry for everything that happened and for what I'll do. I cry for the two funerals I'll have to attend. I cry for my father, for the dark path the death of his child and the betrayal of the love of his life will lead him too. But most importantly, I cry because she was right, and I was going to prove it to her. I could be a monster, and they were about to witness how I was going to bring Ragnarok upon them.

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A/N: to make some things clear for the future. 

Hela's father (Daniel DuBois) is French. Hela's mother (Mikaela Iversen) is Norwegian.

Some aspects will be explained in the future, but yeah, Daniel made his name big (origin will be explained) and Mikaela was a spy, trained since she was a child. She also believes in old norse Gods and Goddesses, i thought it would be appropriate for her character idk, I hyperfixated on them when i was a child.

Q: do you like it? Thoughts? Hope's (or fears) for the next chapters ???