The Red Room

𝕋𝕎𝔼𝕃𝕍𝔼

Trey drove us to my house. When we arrived Morgan and I ran do the door, his face was getting worse by the second. As soon as Amelia saw him she gasped, "Oh dear!" And went to get the first aid kit.

When she returned she went to work on his face. It took quite a bit of time but when she was done his face was pretty much unchanged from before. She told him to lay on the couch and try to get some sleep.

She pulled me into the hallway and whispered harshly, "Izabella, you are going to tell me what happened to that boy, but choose your words carefully because depending on what you tell me I may have to report it which could possibly mean torture or death for you. I don't want that to happen because they'll make me do it and you've become like a daughter to me." She paused and swallowed . "So please tell me you didn't punch that boy." She was pleading with me to lie.

"I did not punch him." I said. "He was playing football and didn't look where he was going. He ran his face into a brick wall."

"Of course." She left. That was that. I would have to tell him that he couldn't tell anyone I punched him. I was sure he would understand, right?

Morgan finally woke up and stumbled into my room. "Hey, sleepyhead." I smiled at him.

"Hey. Whatcha reading?" He gestured to the book in my hands.

"Percy Jackson, for like the fifth time." I giggled. He sort of glanced at me untrustingly.

"Cool."

"What?" I asked.

"What do you mean what?"

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

"I'm not looking at you like anything."

"Fine."

"Fine." It was awkwardly quiet for a moment. "I'd better go home." He broke the silence.

"Okay. See ya."

"See ya." He walked away. Back to his house with his abusive dad and dead super hero moms memory.

Things became more and more awkward between us. He saw a side of me he didn't think existed and that changed things. We also of course had the memory or Amy hanging above our heads.

One day in math class we had to get white boards. The shelf they were on was hanging above Morgan's head. As I reached up he flinched. The whole class noticed. "Just getting a white board." I whispered through a faked smile. The rest of the day everyone whispered behind our backs that I might be abusive to him. And wasn't I? They know that him coming back to school with bandages on his face lined up with him flinching when I moved. I had beaten the crap out of his face.

And then I realized, his dad was abusive. I was his way out. He could always come to my house, but now I was abusive too. So he was caught with no where to hide. All of the sudden I felt the urge to hug him and tell him how very sorry I was, but that I couldn't show it because I was practicing to go back to the academy so they didn't torture or kill me. But I couldn't tell him that. So I swallowed it down.

The question sprung on me. If he knows I'm abusive, and doesn't want to be with me, why doesn't he just leave me? He could get plenty of other girlfriends. Almost every girl practically falls over bowing every time they see him, why didn't he leave and get one of them?

Meanwhile, I had grown to hate the academy. Every time I trained I thought of how much I hated it. And that hate pushed me further. I would graduate and get out of there. Then, I would burn it to the ground. That was my big plan. The plan I told no one but my thoughts about. My plan to destroy the Red Room after I was out.

Morgan still came to my house a lot. I guess he decided I was less abusive than his father. One day we were watching a TV show and he blurted out, "I don't get you."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Well I thought I knew you, but it turns out there is a whole other layer I know nothing about. You were sweet and kind and kind of hard core when it came to sports. But is that really even you?" He looked like he's been thinking about this a lot.

"No it's not." I had to tell the truth, he would know if I was lying and he wouldn't trust me.

"Then who are you?"

"I'm not sure yet." It was the truth. I wasn't sure if I was assassin girl or Iz. I knew who I wanted to be. But I wasn't sure if I was. I wanted to be Iz. The girl with a lot of friends and the perfect boyfriend and the perfect parents who likes to play football and read Percy Jackson. I honestly didn't like assassin girl. I didn't like her life or her actions. I didn't want to be a murderer, I wanted to be a normal high schooler.

He nodded sourly, "Perfect."