• Prologue: Happy BirthdayRight foot.

    Left foot.

    Right foot.

    Left foot.
    The pain starts to overcome my quivering body. I clutch onto a nearby side table for support, the force of my grasp splintering the polished surface.

    Right foot.

    Right foot.

    The farther I get, the heavier my stumbling feet drag on the rich maroon carpet. The tips of my leather shoes heat up from the friction.

    Finally, a door.
    I grip the cold metal doorknob and trust it open.

    Over one hundred svelte, black clad bodies crowd the large conference room. Over one hundred pairs of grey-brown eyes shoot me malicious looks.

    “Oh please, just shoot me,” I nearly grumble, but decide against it, knowing my mot mother would be more than happy to oblige.

    An auburn haired, middle aged man clears his throat, breaking the awkward silence. He motions me to the head of the table with a large hand. My father.

    I straighten up despite myself, and march to the side of a similar looking, though slightly older man. My uncle.

    The tall blonde woman rises from the seat beside me. The official looking stack of papers she’s holding contrast with her bright red nail polish.

    She begins to read.

    “December 21, 6 years ago, employee A43 began working for the Menai family. Since then,
    employee A43 has contributed approximately 0.00% towards the progress of the Menai family.”

    She sets the papers down and gives me a smirk. My mother.

    Well, that proved it. I was a loser, a useless loser who was too dizzy to even care.

    “Well,” my uncle demands, outraged at my uncaring appearance, “what do you have to say for yourself?!”

    Cold sweat brims my forehead. My jaw begins to ache. I open my chapped lips to speak, but before I can actually form words a wave of nausea falls over me and I wind up vomiting all over his wool overcoat.

    “Stupid girl!” my mother screams, hitting me on the cheek with the same papers that had condemned me to worthlessness.

    Talk about adding injury to insult.

    With newfound defiance, I spit a bloody tooth at her face and storm out the door.

    This was going to be the best birthday ever.
    ---

    Chapter 1: Runaway

    I sprinted down the grand hallway, easing past twists and turns. My once trembling legs felt powerful; growing stronger, and pumping faster with each stride I took. My feet barely touched the ground as I flew further away from my estranged relatives.

    Running felt so indescribably good, but if I didn’t stop and hide soon, if my family got close enough to see me, the outcome of my impulse would not be in my favor.

    Thinking ‘on my feet’, I turned left at the next intersection of hallways and burst into the nearest room.

    My heart beat fast in my chest, more out of fear than exertion. The cool wood felt good on my sweaty back as I slumped against the door. Attempting to lock it would be worthless considering this was their house.

    Cautiously, I scanned the room I had so precariously entered. The walls were the same smooth granite as the rest of Menai Manor, but these were covered in careful carvings of gods and goddesses. Their bodies were set stiffly in the swirled stone, as if they had posed especially for the occasion.

    My eyes wandered to a lone marble fountain that stood in the center of the room. It was certainly grand, but fairly non-descript; seeming almost crude in comparison to its detailed surroundings.

    I wrapped my arms around knees and tucked my head beneath my small chest, so mentally exhausted that my brain rejected rational thought
    .
    What felt like hours passed in this silent fashion; sounds of pursuers yet to permeate my sanctuary.

    It wasn’t that strange, I realized, rising from my fetal position. After all, my family might feel that chasing after me might give me the narcissistic notion that I was actually worth brining back.

    I began to wonder why I had fled in the first place. I’d been beaten unjustly countless times, but I’d learned to take it. Maybe it had to do with the excruciating pain that had shaken my body. I had witnessed firsthand the insanity of a tortured man.

    Sighing, I extended a hand towards the doorknob. The longer I waited, the higher my chances of a life threatening “disciplinary measure” became.

    Half a milliliter from defeat, my arm froze. Heat surged through my body, despite the late December chill. I was angry; angry at my parents for abhorring my existence, irate my family to sucking me into their unsavory life, and above all furious that I had accepted this for so long.

    I could stand not being loved, but I would never tolerant hatred.

    Glancing around the room I noticed two hexagonal windows cut from the walls.

    I smiled weakly; freedom?
    ---

    SNEAK PREVIEW

    Chapter 2: Freedom

    Menai Manor: sheltered in obscurity and veiled by the trepidation of its reality. Headquarters of the most feared assassins and the hell-hole where I’d wasted my young life.