I feel the blood drain from my face and goose bumps appear on my arms, the back of my neck pricking with apprehension. I recognise that voice.

"Thorn," Erik spits.

I see a hint of a smile from underneath the man's hood. "Well, it's nice to see you too," he says mockingly.

Erik makes eye contact with me and he shifts slightly so that his back is to me, and I instantly realise what he wants me to do. I'm the closest to Erik, after all, so I slowly start inching my way closer to him, or more specifically, his backpack.

"What's wrong, girlie? Scared?" Thorn uncrosses his arms and stands up straighter, suddenly seeming even more menacing, if possible. I hesitate briefly before stepping completely behind Erik.

"What do you want, Thorn?" Erik says, a slight growl in his voice. I know he's creating a distraction, so I seize the moment and, hoping desperately that Thorn can't see my movements behind Erik, I reach to unzip the first compartment of the haversack, where Erik had explained the day before that he would hide a few switchblades in the case of an emergency. Well, I think this counted as an emergency.

Thorn snarls. "You know what I want. Come on out, girlie!"

I unzip the bag quietly and reach inside. Feeling the sharp objects, I begin to draw them out carefully.

"What's wrong, Thorn?" Erik sneers. "Are planning heists and murders too hard for you? Decided that kidnapping a girl would be an easier target for you?" Erik leans in slightly as if to shield me, giving me time to properly hold two in one hand for Mark and Justine, and one in the other for myself.

"You don't know the half of it!" Thorn jeers. "I need that girl alive, Erik. But if you make my life difficult... well, I can't guarantee she won't get hurt." Thorn pauses. Somehow, his silence is worse than his words. I cautiously zip the bag up again.

"But you already know this, don't you?" I hear Thorn step towards us as a twig snaps. I jump but keep myself from gasping in fright. I notice Erik move a few fingers behind his back.

Realising he won't be able to grab his knife from his jacket without drawing attention, I hand him my knife, careful not to make any sudden movements. Erik grips the switchblade's handle tightly.

"Why so close to him, girlie? You seem to have moved an awful lot behind him in these few minutes. What's wrong? Do I make you uneasy?" Thorn goes to take another step when, as quick as a flash, Erik draws back the switch blade, and throws it at full force towards him. The blade skims past the man's hoodie, missing him by a mere centimetre. Thorn catches the flying blade by its handle before it can go any further. I widen my eyes in shock. Even Justine and Mark seem quite astonished. Erik curses under his breath but doesn't seem all that surprised.

Thorn laughs, clearly amused. "Playing a round of knife-throwing are we? It always has been one of my favourite games, and I'm quite good at it too." He lifts his head a bit and I can see a cold, hard glint in those dark eyes. "My turn." He throws the knife with amazing force.

I scream at Justine to duck as the blade hurtles towards her. She crouches in the nick of time, and the blade strikes the tree behind her, wobbling in its place.

"Run!" Erik orders. I don't need to be told twice. Justine springs to her feet and the four of us begin to run. Erik pulls out the knife from his jacket and sprints alongside us, urging us on. I glance behind me and immediately wish I hadn't. Although we have a few metres head start, Thorn is chasing us with remarkable speed.

"Don't look back!" Mark puffs and I turn my eyes forward.

"Mark! Compass!" Erik shouts.

Marks slides his hand into his jacket pocket, producing a small, golden compass. He opens it and the tiny arrow spins around for a bit.

"We need to head south-east!" Mark yells to Erik, who nods, turning direction.

Something small and fast whizzes by me, and when I look back, I see that Thorn now has a gun in his hands, a long black tube protruding from it which I assume is the reason behind the muffled gunshot.

To my utter horror and realisation, Thorn's hood slips off, and I now get a good view of the assassin. The man has a buzz cut, almost military style, his dark hair barely visible. His face is square and stern. Two beady eyes glare at me with malice, almost mercilessly. The feature that stands out most, however, is a long scar that runs across his face from his left eye down to his cheek, making him appear all the more dangerous.

With energy I didn't know I had in me up until now, I push myself, forcing my legs to run as fast as possible, further into the depth of the woods. Another assassin suddenly emerges from behind a tree, holding up a gun. Before I even have time to process this turn of events, Erik throws the switchblade straight through the man's hand. He lets out an ear-piercing scream and I hastily look away. The four of us continue to stumble through the thicket of trees as Mark yells out directions every now and again. Two more muffled shots ring out and I flinch as I think of the bullet that sent Anita to her death. Suddenly, I trip over a tree root and go sprawling to the ground, landing amongst a pile of dried leaves and twigs. I try crawling to my knees but slip only manage to slip on the leaves instead. My muscles and bones ache in protest, and Mark rushes to help me, pulling me up by my arms. Erik stuffs a hand into his backpack and takes out what looks like a litre water bottle. Holding it under his arm while running, he digs into his other jacket pocket and takes out a match box. Spilling a few of the matches as he ducks from flying bullets, he manages to miraculously light a match and shove it quickly into the bottle. He closes the cap, shaking it a bit, then throws it at Thorn's face, hard.

"What the..." Thorn sputters, almost tripping over himself. Not a second too soon, huge amounts of smoke emit from the bottle and Thorn begins to cough, doubling over.

"Poisonous smoke bomb. Nice." Mark flashes a smile in Erik's direction.

"Quick, it won't knock him out for long and we're a bit off track." Erik motions for Mark to hand him the compass. We start clambering back up the slope hurriedly as Thorn falls to the ground in a coughing fit.

We continue to sprint for another twenty minutes until eventually, we slow to a jog, certain that no other assassins are roaming nearby. I stop hands on knees, panting.

"Sorry," I hold the side of my stomach in pain. "I've got a stitch." It's not just that, though. My whole body aches from the fall. I find a blood stain on my shirt and lift it slightly to find a cut on my stomach, where a stick must have scratched through the material. I check my hands and knees, which are also scratched and bloodied from the sharp sticks I had landed on.

Mark slings my arm around his shoulder, gently pressing me against him. "Let's go. We should keep moving. We'll get you cleaned up at the safe house."

I give him a grateful crossed with a slightly embarrassed look.

"Thanks," I mumble.

Half an hour passes in mostly silence as we focus on keeping a fast walking pace, the quietness only broken by the occasional grumble from Justine.

"All my clothes," Justine mutters under her breath. "Ruined! Stupid assassins. That was a good suitcase too."

"I warned you not to bring anything of too much value," Erik sighs, checking the compass once more.

"But to me, all my clothes are of value!" Justine sniffs.

I can't help but smile and shake my head. Trust Justine to talk about clothes after almost getting killed.

***

"Well, we're here," Erik announces, almost two hours later.

I have to look twice. Up ahead in the clearing, a small wooden cottage sits surrounded by trees, its wood blending so beautifully with wilderness, I almost don't notice it. It's situated near the edge of the mountain, overlooking the millions of little houses, far, far below. Clumps of grass grow wildly around the quaint, wooden house.

Justine, Mark and I all exchange relieved glances. As we draw closer, I notice the sun already beginning to descend from its position high in the sky.

Mark squeezes my shoulder reassuringly, and in that moment, all I yearn for is a comfortable bed to lie on. Something about Erik's little home seems welcoming, almost relaxing. I smile at Mark before following Erik towards the house.

***

I take in my surroundings, dust mites dancing in the streams of light. I step onto the polished wooden floorboards. The place is beautiful in its simplicity, most of the furniture made of different kinds of wood, making the little house almost seem as if we were out in the wild. In the living room, hangs a magnificent chandelier. Mark leads me down the corridor and into the bathroom, where I begin to tend to my cuts. I run my hands under the running tap water. Mark rummages through a drawer under the sink and takes out a first-aid kit, pulling out a bundle of bandages. Knowing he would offer to help me, I hold out one hand wordlessly, and he begins to wrap the bandage around.

"I want to be stronger," I say, seemingly out of the blue.

Mark raises his eyebrows at me but doesn't say anything.

"I want to learn some of the tricks that you've been taught. I always drag everyone behind." I think back to my stupidity, how I could have cost someone their life, all because I tripped over some stupid root. I'm probably the weakest here, I reason.

"No, you don't." He finishes with one hand and begins on the next.

I frown, surprised at his denial. "I do. I'm always the one that's confused and scared. I was the one who tripped today. If Erik didn't have that smoke bomb, Thorn already would've caught us."

"But he didn't," Mark argues.

"But what if he did, Mark?" I reason. "Erik's not always going to have a smoke bomb up his sleeve, and then what? I want to be able to defend myself. I can't always expect people to protect me," I point out.

Mark nods reluctantly as if considering the matter. "Fine," he says after a while. "I'll talk to Erik about it. I think it's good that you want to be stronger, but..." He finishes wrapping my other hand, but instead of letting go, he holds my wrist. "I don't want you to feel like you have to be independent all of a sudden. We've all had years of training on how to be cautious and how to steal... you're just starting out."

I nod my head eagerly. But I want to be independent. Thrill and apprehension overwhelm me as I think of what I'm agreeing to. I'm going to be a thief and intelligencer!

Mark narrows his eyes at me, then sighs. "I'll go sort it out with Erik. You need any more help?" he asks, glancing down at my bloodied knees and then at the blood stain on my shirt.

He furrows his eyebrows in concern. "Let me see that."

I lift the hem of my shirt, revealing the open cut on my lower stomach. He reaches out tenderly, and I flinch, but not for the reason he thinks.

"Sorry," he apologises. "Did that hurt?"

"Um," I say, willing my face not to flush. "It's okay, I can do it."

"Are you sure?" He doesn't look convinced, but I'm already nodding my head.

"Alright," he sighs before walking out the door.

I stare at my reflexion. My hair is sticking up at odd angles, my face is dirty and grimy, and I'm all cut and bruise. And I did this all on my stupid own! No assassin did this. I did this all on my clumsy lonesome. I clench my teeth in annoyance, hating this sense of helplessness.

No more, I think determinately. I'm not going to be a constant burden on everyone. Things are going to change. It's about time that I change.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

| Dedicated to @seeyainhellbye |

Thank you for all the votes! Xx

I recently wrote a short story for the "Twist of Fate" challenge. It's called "The Darker Knight". Based on the Joker and Lex Luther. Check it out if you're interested!

Don't forget to comment/vote!

EDITED ✔