Claire was crying when I left.

Her tears darkened her pretty face. Her blue eyes were clouded, her short dark hair fell onto her shoulders like a curtain, and her body trembled with sobs. She was so convinced that that was the end. Why? I didn't know. Remembering it now, I think I was about ready to end things between us. We've been preparing for that day for a while now. And I thought I might've been able to get some closure.

I was wrong.

When I saw her sobbing form in front of the truck, hands covering her face, my heart melted. I couldn't leave her.

But I had to go.

We didn't end it. We promised to try. I told her I'd text her everyday. She promised she'd go online as much as possible. In the end, we agreed for a long-distance relationship.

We were naïve.

I left. And as I stared at her petite figure from the rear-view mirror in the car, I could've sworn I heard something inside me break. Up until now, I thought I could escape my past. Up until now, I thought I could be a normal teenage girl.

Not anymore.

The Phoenix have found me.

And I know nothing will ever be normal again.

~

“Hi.”

My gaze turns upwards. She's tall and slender, with tanned skin, long brunette hair dropping down in waves, and piercing green eyes that's staring deep into my dull dark brown ones. She has a friendly smile. And the clothes she's wearing fit her just perfectly. They hug her curves, show off her breasts, and reveal her slim legs. What a typical princess. It makes the muscle in my eyebrow twitch.

“You're the new girl, right?”

I nod. Her melodious voice is so sickeningly sweet, I feel like gagging.

“As class representative, I'm gonna need you to fill this up.” She slips three sheets of paper onto my table. I don't need to look at them to know what they are. Sports applications. Club forms. So on, so on. There's a reason I didn't accept them on the first day, and there's a reason I'm not bothering to look down at them again.

“Thanks,” I say casually. “I'll be sure to pass them up soon.”

She smiles at me again. Stop that. Finally, she straightens her back, and walks away.

I don't hate her. She's just a normal girl. With an unbelievably high reputation. But I'm not in this school to socialize or make buddies or whatever. I can't afford to get attached to anyone, whether I take a liking to them or not.

It's been 4 months since I left Calgary. 3 months since I first met the Phoenix. And 2 months since I've started schooling here in Vista, California. So far, I've managed to attract little attention. The only true friend I've made is my roommate, a fellow Phoenix assassin. I try to distance myself from everyone else. The Phoenix have given me a mission. And this mission requires stealth.

I absolutely cannot draw attention to myself.

I stuff the papers neatly into my bag, making it look as if I'm actually gonna read them again later, and get up in unison to the sound of the bell ringing. I've counted the time to seconds, and now I can easily tell when a class ends and begins. I make my way out, ignoring the empty feeling in my chest.

My name's Nightly Thorn. Previously Nightly Rosalie Moore. I'm at 17 years of age, living strictly under the parental guard of an underground order called the Phoenix. My mother was a victim of the Phoenix. She had tip-toed into enemy territory, and when I was only 3 years old, she was murdered. I grew up with my father after that, living with him in Calgary to try and escape the Phoenix who have suddenly took an interest in finding me. It took them 13 years to find me. And when they did, my whole life turned upside down.

I am now a Phoenix assassin. A spy, trained by elite men. A liar, face replaced with something that can't ever be seen. And a killer, skilled, hardened and perfected to the bone. I can never go back to the girl I used to be. I've seen too much. Experienced too much. I saw death before my very eyes. I heard the screams of souls too corrupted to ever hope for redemption. I felt the sleek feel of the red liquid dripping down my arm to my elbow. I know what it's like to kill. And after 4 months of experiencing it all,

I don't feel anything anymore.

I weave past the crowd of students busying themselves with trying to get to their next class, and I side-step the minute that familiar white door comes into view. I enter the little ladies room quietly, shoulder-bag secured tightly over my shoulder, and make my way to the sink.

There's only one other person in here besides me.

Her name is Evangaline Winston. She's a year below me, with short curly blonde hair and bright blue eyes. She'd be pretty. I'd actually like her.

If she isn't my next target.

I turn the tap on, and wash my hands with gentle strokes as she applies lip bum onto her peach lips. She notices me, but she makes no move to awknowledge it. Finally, when I look over, she meets my gaze, and sends me a friendly smile.

I smile back.

And the trap commences.

She puts her make-up set back into her bag, taking her sweet time about it too. I've stopped washing my hands, and now instead of that, I focus on wiping my hands with the paper towels next to the sink. I'm getting ready for the strike. A kill's best done clean, after all.

“That's a beautiful bag.”

She turns to me, surprised. Of course, she didn't expect me to try and make conversation. But the words have been laid out, and she takes the bait.

“Thanks!” She says cheerfully, looking down at her bright pink backpack. I'm surprised it isn't decorated with flowers. But then again, that would be just a little bit too much. “My dad got it for me from LA.”

Oh, did he now? I let my voice turn into a cool texture. “Your dad has good taste.” I turn around, matching her now slightly weary gaze with my own. “Could I maybe see it?”

She smiles. A little bit forced now. “Sure.” Reluctantly, she edges closer, and presents the bag to me. I reach out a single hand, and the minute I touch it, I know the game's over.

I pull on the bag forcefully and suddenly, leaving Evangeline too stunned to even scream. As she tips forward from the force, my hand comes back and grips her neck tightly, shoving her towards the wall beside us to keep her from shouting. She looks at me with terrified eyes, but I can't see them. I can't see anything but the porcelain skin on her body. With a quick flick of my wrist, I have a needle stuck up her lower abdomen. She tenses instantly. But soon, her whole body goes limp, and she falls onto the ground completely unconscious.

I place the needle back into my bag, and pull out a small yellow piece of paper. I grab her body forcefully, and push it into one of the toilet stalls. I grab her bag too, and stuff the yellow paper into it before throwing it into the stall with her. As I give her limp body one last glance before I close the door, I try to search within me to find some sort of emotion. Any emotion.

Nothing.

With a roll of my eyes, I slam the door shut, and escape the bathroom. As I make my way to my next class, I can already hear a terrified girl's frantic scream coming from the girls' bathroom. She must've found Evangeline. Good for her for being the first! Gold star!

I duck into the locker room. Next subject is PE. One target down. 13 more to go.

 

2: Number 19

The sun's too bright today. It's gonna tan my peach skin even if I put sunblock on. What a bitch. I turn my gaze down to the field. Today isn't unusual. The jocks are playing football, the cheerleaders are cheering, and everyone else is mingling amongst each other with carefree and easygoing attitudes. I sigh loudly.

This is so stupid.

Where's my next target?

Apparently his name is Jordan Sands. He's a math nerd, with an unbelievably high IQ. I hear rumors about him sometimes. Some say he's not as good as he looks to be. Some say he cheats. Others claim they see him dealing with drugs after school behind the compound. I don't usually buy into high school rumors. But seeing that he's my next target, I wanna know why the Phoenix wants him dead. It's hard to say though. Considering all the Phoenix does is provide a list of names. You don't know why you have to kill them, you just do. It comes with being an assassin.

I scan the area below me. I do know how he looks like. I do my research before targeting a hit. But he's nowhere to be found. He's probably in the locker room. Damn.

Just as my eyes sweep across the track field, she looks up, and our gazes hold.

It's the same girl from before. Tall, slender, toned body with bright forest green eyes. The class representative. She has a suspicious look on her face, as if she knows that I'm up to no good. Doesn't matter to me though. It's not as if I'm looking for her approval anyways. I tear my gaze away, and look down at the book in my hands.

101 Ways to Kill Without Spilling Blood.

Don't ask me why I have this book. My roommate gave it to me as a welcoming present. It's pretty appropriate, especially in my case, to this situation. Plus no one comes this high up the bleachers so I don't exactly have to worry about anyone sneaking glances my way and getting suspicious at me for reading a homicidal book. I have an eagle's eye view from up here. It's perfect.

Well, that girl from before spotted me. But she doesn't matter.

I flip through the first few pages of the book.

I get so engrossed with the words that I don't realize the sudden figure standing beside me.

"Hi."

My hands slam the book shut before I even look up to see who it is. Unsurprisingly, I see her again.

"You."

She raises an eyebrow. "Inappropriate book?"

I purse my lips together. "You can say that."

Why is she here?

"What're you doing up here alone?"

I force my gaze down to the floor. I'm usually so much more natural than this. But damn, this girl really caught me off guard. I clear my throat, before forcing myself to remain calm as I look up to face her. "I have a weak body."

"Really?" She mutters almost disbelievingly. She has on a sly smile that makes me wanna- God, I wanna punch her. "You don't look like the type."

"Looks can be deceiving."

"You obviously work out. How can you still claim you have a weak body?"

"It comes on and off."

"That doesn't make sense."

Why the fuck is she trying to make idle conversation with me?!

I turn my gaze to the field, trying to erase any sign of detestation off my face. I don't wanna get on this girl's bad side, since that itself would attract attention, but if I keep talking to her like this, won't the students get suspicious? Won't they get jealous that their beloved class representative is talking to the loner girl by the back? Either way, all this girl's gonna do is draw attention. And that's the one thing I don't wanna do.

"Are you Asian?"

I can't help but shoot her a look. "What?"

She fidgets, almost nervously. "You just look like you have some sort of Asian heritage, that's all."

I continue to stare at her. With a very obvious 'are you a complete idiot?' look. She doesn't get the hint. Sighing, I shake my head.

"I'm not Asian."

She smiles, but I don't acknowledge it. Before she can open her mouth to say something else, a friend of hers from the field call out to her, catching her attention almost instantly. She seems to be saying something along the lines of 'help me organize the cheer routine or I'll ring your ass before you'll ever see the next dawn'. That actually makes me smirk.

She nods at her friend, and puts up a hand to signal her arrival. But of course, she feels like she has an obligation to say goodbye to me first. She looks at me now, head tipped slightly to the left with a bright smile on her face, as if she's expecting me to initiate the goodbye.

Who does this girl think she is?

"My name's Alison."

"Nightly."

Wait- What?!

Did I just give out my name to a complete stranger?

I keep my expression neutral, and throw the girl a sideways glance. Her expression is... shocked. As if she hadn't expect me to answer. Or maybe my name just sounds too uncommon. Either way, I don't let it faze me. I just want her gone.

"That's," She swallows. "A beautiful name."

Huh?

I try to search her face. "Thank you."

She throws me one last smile, before skipping down the stairs to the field. I watch as she reunite with her friend, apologizing sheepishly as her friend chews her out for skipping off in the middle of practice. All the while, I'm trying to grasp what just happened. Trying to figure out why I feel so strange like this.

She looks up again. And when our gazes meet, my heart beat quickens just slightly.
Shit. No way.

I force my hard gaze down onto the book. This- This girl... What's her plan? How does she read body language so easily? That's the only way she could've caught me so easily off-guard. It was like she knew my responses, like she was pushing the buttons to an invisible show. Or maybe... She actually meant to socialize with me.

Stop it, Nightly. You swore off this path a long time ago. Remember Claire? Don't repeat the same mistakes.

I purse my lips together, and let my fingers graze the surface of the book.

"Number 19." I say casually.

Number 19. That will be the way I kill Jordan Sands.

~

I lean against the lockers, eyes glued forward and face pulled into a nonchalant expression. There is no emotion in me. That's just the way I've been for the past 3 months now. But I'm also a liar. And a very well-trained actress. With a blink of an eye, I could be on my knees now, crying cause a boy I liked rejected my love confession. Or I could be playing the ditzy blonde (even though I'm not), curling a strand of my black hair around with my finger. I could pretend I'm your long-lost sister. And I could convince you I'm sincere.

I let out a loud exhale now, and count exactly five seconds, until I hear that familiar bell ring above me.

It doesn't take long for that annoyingly familiar group of guys to exit the boys' locker room, rowdy and loud with exaggerated joy. I close my eyes, and let myself sink into the background.

As expected, the guys past me without noticing me at all. I follow behind them quietly, making sure none of them notice the creepy black-haired girl tailing behind them like a stalker. Of course, Jordan Sands is among them. My next target.

Once outside, the boys separate, and of course I side-step to follow Jordan to his car. This occupation of mine can seriously be considered stalkerish.

We approach the silver Mercedes. Its pretty. What a waste. When he enters, so do I. But he doesn't notice me. How can he? When I've learned every weakness about him. His right ear is half-deaf. And if he sees something shiny, he'll get distracted. So naturally I have a penny ready in front of the front door. He looks down at it as he opens the door, smile wide, and while he's bending down, I slip in through the back door.

The trap commences.

Once inside, he buckles his seat belt casually, and revves up the engine. In one quick movement, I wrap my arm over his neck, pulling on it with my other hand as he thrashes, wide-eyed, at the sudden attack. I grit my teeth when I feel his surprisingly long nails scraping my peach skin. That's gonna leave a scar.

I curse silently, and wait a few more moments, before I feel his body go limp. Sighing, I pull away, and lean against the back seat of the car, eyes closed.

But I can't stay here long. I exit quickly, and pull Jordan's limp body out. I check his pulse quickly, just to make sure he's dead. I then smash the windows to his car, pulling the hoodie up over the back of my head to make sure no one sees my face. And then I leave.

People are gonna think someone tried to steal his car, and he fought back, but failed.

101 Ways To Kill Without Spilling Blood- Number 19.

Suffocation.

I duck behind the building wall, and make my way to the foyer. I'm not a monster. Not really. I'm just doing what the Phoenix orders. If I don't, they'll do things to me. Bad things. Things that'll break me. I don't wanna go through that. Not after seeing John die. Shaking my head, I push the double doors open, and step out to the courtyard. Jaz should be here by now, hidden behind the tinted windows of her black Mercedes. She's my roommate. A senior Phoenix assassin, one that has killed far more than I could ever dream of killing. I don't trust her. She doesn't trust me either. Yet I can't help but look at her as my sister.

Weird... Isn't it?

I look up. And I see it. That familiar black Merc parked perfectly in front of the school curb. I can just imagine Jaz's face inside, smirking as she watches me approach her.

But something catches my gaze.

From the corner of my eye, I see a familiar figure. I don't directly look. But I peer. My gaze just barely brushes against her long, slim legs, before I revert it back to the path ahead.

Don't. Look. Back.

"Nightly!"

Fuck.

I'm at an obligation to stop and address the suddenly enthusiastic girl. She seems happy to see me. Well, there's a first for everything, right?

"Hi." I mumble casually. This time, I'm ready for whatever she has up her sleeve. Her manipulative kindness won't overthrow me again.

"Going home?" She asks, her jog turning into a slow walk as she nears me. I can see the few droplets of sweat sliding down her forehead. And judging from the sports bra, tank top and shorts she's wearing, she must've just come back from a run or an after-school club meeting or something. Not that it concerns me.

I nod. "Isn't that what a student has to do after finishing their daily academic classes?"

Her confident smile wavers slightly, before she turns away and chuckles. "True. But I just thought you'd have joined a club or something." Her eyes light up at this. "Speaking of which! About those forms-"

"I'll hand them in tomorrow." Actually, I won't. But whatever.

She grins. "Perfect."

There's a few seconds of silence. I'm standing here wondering what this girl can ever hope to gain by trying to socialize with the anti-social new girl with the highest suspicion rate in class. I sneak a peek at her perfectly-shaped face. Yeah, I definitely wanna punch her.

"I'm still trying to get used to saying your name." She says suddenly, rushing through her words as if she's... shy?

"Well, it is quite uncommon." I say simply, shooting the grass beside me a nonchalant look. "People call me Thorn to keep it simple." I glance at her. "It's my last name."

She looks flushed suddenly. I can't quite pinpoint why but it makes me just that tiny bit satisfied. She's avoiding my gaze, and even though she says her next sentence rather quickly, the words she say brings a strange feeling to my gut.

"I-I like your first name. Nightly. It's so exotic. So, um, pretty." She flashes me a smile. "N-Not like mine. Alison is super common. Boring, too. Hah. Well, I guess it's still better than Ciara."

I almost wanna point out that she says my name weird. But I then realize that I don't know why. She says it normally... But... I don't know. It sounds different coming from her mouth. Wait. Did she say Ciara? "Ciara?"

She looks up at me, and nods. "My full name's Ciara Alison Banks. Um, people just call me Alison. Ciara's not really a 'me' kinda name."

"Really?" I ask almost automatically. "I think it suits you perfectly."

Why am I making conversation with her?! I almost feel like I couldn't control that. Thinking back on it, I literally said it without thinking. Ah shit. She's doing it again. She's manipulating me. How is she doing this?

"Um," I turn away. "I'm gonna go. Bye."

Without seeming too awkward, I turn and make my way to the black car a few paces in front of me. She doesn't make any move to stop me.

"See you tomorrow!"

I roll my eyes, but of course she can't see it. Finally I reach the car. Thank God too. I honestly thought my walk was a little too frigid to look natural. As I enter the car, I can't help but take one last look at her. But she's already gone. Good. Yeah. Good. I can't possibly get involved with this girl. Too much attention. Too much drama. That would be very bad. In a sense that the Phoenix would have my head chopped off. Why am I even thinking about her in the first place?

I shake my head as I close the car door. It's quiet for a minute, and the girl in the driver's seat doesn't make any move to drive the car forward. So I turn to her, face pulled into a nonchalant expression, and ask,

"Why are we not moving?"

"Cause I'm not pressing on the pedal?" Her voice is, as usual, sarcastic. And her face... God, her face. I wanna punch her too. But unlike that Ciara girl, I can actually punch Jaz. So I do. Until she stops me.

Her smirk widens. "Nice try, Thorn. But I have years of experience over you."

The sucky part is, that's true. I pull my hand away, and force my gaze forward. "You're a major douchebag."

Jaz snickers as she puts the car on drive. We leave the school drive way, and I can't help but take one last look at the path where I was standing a few seconds ago. Ciara. Who is she? I mean, I really don't understand her. Her words are casual. They're what an average teenager is supposed to say. But why do I always hear something strange in her words? What're her motives for trying to converse with me? God, her sickeningly sweet personality makes me wanna puke.

Or, at least, I tell myself it does.

Jaz keeps looking at me as we drive. It comes to a point where I can practically feel her accusing gaze on my skin.

"What the hell, Jaz?"

"Who was that girl just now?"

I purse my lips. "No one."

"You're lying."

"I'm not. You should know that."

"You can't fool me, Thorn."

I turn to glare at her. A sharp one, at that. "That girl is nothing to me. We're not friends. We're not acquaintances. And we'll never be either." I turn my gaze back to the road. "I am solely focused on my mission. And only my mission. There is nothing else that I'm even remotely interested in. So drop it, Jaz."

And she does. For the time being., at least I can see her amused smirk curl into a somewhat satisfied smile. She knows the rules of being a Phoenix assassin more than anyone. Never get involved with someone- Physically or even emotionally. It never ends well. I learned that the hard way. And Claire had to pay for a mistake I made. A mistake I can never get back.

Jaz knows now that what I said is true. She knows that Ciara means absolutely nothing to me. I know it too.

So then... Why does a little part of me hurt when I hear myself say those words?