I went to the study room; I stayed there for...the entire day. Nine fifteen, and they still haven’t returned. Ashley said they usually get back home late, especially John; he goes to the missions more than Elliot. Elliot. How the hell am I going to talk to him after what happened this morning? I shut the book I was reading, throwing it on the other side of the couch. “Damn it.” as late as it was, I couldn’t go back to my chamber; this room was more comforting, less bland, and had a balcony with a view of beautiful green mountains from afar. I leaned my back on the couch, feeling tired of the sitting position; Surprisingly, it was comfortable. I could sleep without a pillow. Every time I close my eyes, Elliot’s face pops up. My mind can't seem to let go of him. I slapped him. I hit the man who owns the S.O. The man everyone is scared of. But...But he kissed me without my consent; he deserved that slap. Yeah! Just because he’s good-looking doesn’t mean I’ll let him do whatever he wants from me. I yawned. I can’t keep my eyes open. He wouldn’t mind if I slept here. Right? I ended up falling asleep without giving it much thought.

The sound of a door being slammed woke me up with a gasp; it was still dark except for the moonlight. “I slept?” I mumbled to myself. “Yes,” someone replied. I let out a gasp. Elliot was standing in front of the door, eyeing me. I sat up, trying not to make eye contact with him. He changed his clothes, which means he came early. How long was he standing there? I noticed his right hand was wrapped with a bandage. “What happened to your hand?” “Nothing.” the tune of his voice changed; it was darker, scarier. “I’ll...I’ll go back to my room.” I’m too scared to look at him; my heart is pounding faster and faster each second. Before I stepped out, he grabbed my arm. “Wait.” shitshitshitshit. What now? “what.” I said, not looking at him. “About this morning. Let’s keep our relationship...Professional.” YES. That is what I want. Really what I want. But why do I feel hurt? Why? Why do I feel like my heart is shattered? “Yes, Let’s keep our relationship professional. Good night.” I left without looking back.

“What the hell happened to you two?” John questioned, not taking his eyes off the road. “What are you talking about?” A week passed after the situation in the study room. All we share is ‘good morning’ and good night’

our so-called “professional relationship” made John suspicious of our behavior. Elliot didn’t tell John what happened. “You know damn well what I am talking about.” “There is nothing to talk about.” “Liar.” “Fuck off, John.” I breathed, thinking he wouldn’t hear me. He did. “Excuse me? Do you want me to remind you who saved you?” “Yeah yeah. I get it. You saved me. Thank you. Happy?” “Not until you tell me what happened between you two.” “AGH! Okay okay. We argued. He said he wants our-” I air quote. ” ‘Our relationship’ to be professional.” “Argument Huh.”

Going to the S.O. Become a routine now. I don’t struggle with punching and kicking. I learned all the basics. Next week they’ll decide if I should stay in fifth grade (fifth floor) or transfer to the fourth grade (fourth floor)

John said he hadn’t seen a member like me before, someone who is ready to kill. I changed. It terrifies me how much I’ve changed. “We are partners. You can talk to me.” “Just because I knocked you out last Friday doesn’t mean we should be friends.” I grinned. I know that gets him irritated. “You are annoying, you know that?”

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We spend a good two hours kicking each other’s asses. “Damn, you are...something else,” John said while holding his knees, panting. “My trainer is scared of me? how interesting.” I threw a towel at him. “Tired?” I smirked. that made him feel offended. “What makes you think I’m tired?” “your face?” “Ha ha, very funny.” He took a fake knife out of his back pocket. Was it there all this time? This wasn’t the first time we fought with a knife; I learned how to deal with these types of situations, how to fight with it, and how to protect myself from it. John went directly to my back; I crouched, sliding my leg to his knee. He jumped back. “Not so fast.” Damn it. When I got to my feet, he started moving his knife in multiple directions to see if I could dodge them fast enough. Each move has a certain pattern; from right to left to left to right. I should grab his elbow, twist it and take his knife out of his hand. I did what I planned. He can’t move now; he’s trapped; if it was a real knife, his neck would’ve been sliced. “Bravo, almost a pro.” I threw his knife back. “That’s what happens when you fight with ghosts in your room.” Every time I go to the S.O. In the morning, I repeat the same moves and fight at night. “Wait, you train at night too?” “Yep. Anyway, I gotta take a shower.” “Does Boss knows about your secret training sessions?” “Why would I tell him? You ARE my trainer. Not him.” That. Came out in an angry voice. The room fell into an awkward silence. “I was...Just asking.” I swore under my breath. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to sound pissed. I’ll take a quick shower, then we’ll go.” “Hey!” I slid the door closed. Shit. Now he’s more suspicious. I think I’m going crazy.

When I went back. John was sitting on the floor, arms around his knees.

“You can go now.” “We are not done.” Fuck.

“Well. That makes sense; No wonder why he was killing people like a fucking beast. he was pissed.” I told him. I told him everything. From the panic attack situation to the study room talk. “I can’t believe I told you this.” I pressed my fingers to my temple. “Please don’t get the wrong idea. I DON’T like him. He’s my boss just as he is to you.” “Don’t worry.” he turned his head to look at me from his seat. “My mouth is zipped.” He did a motion of zipping his lips. “Anyways, when will I learn how to shoot?” I crossed my arms so as my legs. “Close. very close.”

“As I said before. Next week I want to have one last fight to prove that I am worth the trust. With you.” “You want to...Fight me?” Elliot cocked his eyebrow, not surprised about my offering. He’s a pro at not changing his expression. That’s why he’s so hard to read. Our discussions have always been held in the study room since last week. We talk. Like an employer with their boss. Nothing more, nothing less. “Yes, but not in the S.O. In your gym. Here.” I may look calm on the outside, but my heart wouldn’t stop hammering inside my chest. I wouldn’t be surprised if I had a sudden heart attack. I stood next to the bookshelf, hands behind my back. While he was sitting on one of the fancy chairs facing the fireplace, his eyes were on the book he was holding. “I’ll think about it.” “T-Think about it?” I hate how my voice sounds shaky when I talk to him. I. Hate. It. He approached the exit, but before he leaves. “Yes, I WILL think about it.” Leaving without closing the door behind him. “Prick.”