I hunch my shoulders as I walk, head down, feet forward.
That’s what they taught me. On the street
you are inconspicuous, unseen, a mere shadow that must avoid all contact with
light.
Music blares from my headphones, the same headphones I refused to take off,
even after Dad’s lecture on ‘the
importance of being aware of your surroundings’. Songs are a distraction, frowned
upon in my world.
Over the past two months I’ve become rebellious; a flaw in my
parent’s perfect façade. Once upon a time I would’ve done anything my family
instructed of me, but now, I realise, it’s all fake.
A fake family with fake
intentions.
So, I’m guessing at this present second you’re rather
confused about my situation, probably wanting the truth. Well, it’s a pretty
unbelievable story but I’m going to force you to listen; even if it means
strapping you to the chair you’re sat in.
I am Naomi Watts, your average sixteen-year-old. I drink,
party, study and avoid chores at all costs. But, there’s one itsy-bitsy detail
about me not many people suspect. I kill people. Yep, you heard me right. I am
capable of taking down a fully grown man with just one move. So can my Mom and
Dad, friends and teachers.
I train at Blackmarks Academy for young
Assassins, eight hours a day, five days a week. It’s my life; what I’ve
been indoctrinated to do. I was enrolled in the school seven years ago by my
parents who work as government intelligence agents, sector four, super top
secret stuff. And of course, being an only child, I am to follow in the revered
footsteps of my elders.
This summer, Henry and Philippa Watts made the fatal mistake
of shipping me off to spend the holiday with my Uncle in Russia.
Parky, Dad’s brother, was the black sheep of the family. Not prestigious like
his younger sibling nor strategic, following his father. My Uncle wasn’t smart
or charming, nor did it look like he won the genetic lottery, nevertheless, he
was the most reckless spy our generation had ever heard of. That was, of
course, until he disappeared. It seemed Parky just packed up and left. So,
coming home on the last day of school to find my parents handing me a bag full
of clothes and a ticket to Moscow was quite a surprise.
It turned out Parky had
sent Dad a letter asking to see me. At first, I didn’t understand. Why would
anyone buy me a plane ticket to fly over Europe just to meet them?
But now I get it. I was the blank sheet of paper my Uncle needed to write on.
He exposed the reality of my life: eat, sleep, train. Rules and regulations bearing
down on me like a ton of bricks.
This got me thinking: Why not rebel? Why not become an insurgent?
That’s when I decided to join Parky’s… group. We confront the government and
dispose of its waste. If you’re horrified by the thought, think of it like
this: I’m not killing the good guys, just their bad intentions.
I stop in my tracks and look up. I’ve reached my destination.
My intense grey eyes survey the building that looms before me; its Romanesque
style architecture adding to its impressive size. I’d spent almost half my life
learning here. New styles of combat, weapons, foreign tongues, strategies of
attack. I’d even been ranked first in the class on a few occasions which was
hard considering I was up against the elites.
It was my first day. And this year, I wasn’t little Omi who
plastered a smile on her face every day. That girl died in Russia while her
fists hit a punching bag for five hours until her knuckles bled. I am Naomi
Ivanoa Watts. The girl who will break
this school; tear it down from the inside. My goal is to expose my peers,
trainers and even my parents for the mockery they conform to, their government. I am a bulldozer and this is
my wall.
So, when I enter through the front gates, no one will know
what really happened over my summer break. None of my classmates would guess I
was hiding bodies at the back of dumpsters, hanging out in grungy bars with my
Uncle or spending half my time in the laundrette, praying ‘blood wont stain’.