Chronicles of an Assassin: Hidden

All Rights Reserved ©

Chapter 1

Dear reader, before I tell you what happens after what you just saw, I wish I could tell you that it ends well.

It’s a stormy night in New York City in the year 2075, but I just keep running along the tops of buildings, dodging the obstacles poking out of the roofs. You might ask, why are you doing running on building this late at night and in the rain? Well, the answer is simple, I’m running on these buildings because I’m trying to escape my thoughts. I’m thinking about how my parents died in a car crash a month ago and I can’t forgive myself for not being there to help them.

I think back to a happier time, I just won the state championship with my gymnastic team. I can still imagine the pride and love in my parents’ eyes as they watch me from the stands, cheering for me and my team. I wipe away tears, angrily.

As I jump from building to building, dodging more obstacles, I look down into the alley, below me and notice something’s not right. Three people in all black are hitting and kicking someone but I can’t see who they are attacking.

There is a woman’s voice saying, “Please, stop. I didn’t do anything.”

I look around and see a long lamp post to the right of me. I back up and then start running towards the pole. When I reach the end of the building, I kick off from the ledge and jump. I grab the pole and swing myself around, launching myself into the alley. Right when I am about to hit the ground, I tuck and roll to absorb the energy from the impact.

The people in black don’t notice until I stand up and yell, “Hey, stop hurting her!”

They ignore me.

“Help, I can’t get up!” She says, sobbing, trying to crawl away from them when they are distracted but she can’t get that far before someone steps on her leg, pinning it down. “Please! Stop!”

“Let me help her!” I say, angrily.

“No, you are going to leave. This is none of your business.” The leader orders. I try to run around them to help her, but the leader blocks my path and shove me back. “Didn’t I just say to leave? She deserves this.”

“No, she doesn’t. No one does. Stop hurting her.” I try shoving past him again but he grabs my arm and holds me, so I have to watch the woman being hurt.

She tries to protect herself because they start hitting and kicking her again. “Please, stop! Please!” She begs.

“Stop! She doesn’t deserve to be killed!” I yell at the people hurting the woman, trying to free myself from the leaders’ strong grip.

They turn around again. “Oh, yeah? What makes you think that? You don’t want the same treatment, do you?” A scrawny man with a black face mask asked. They grab metal tubes from the construction next to them.

“Let’s just talk like civilized people. I don’t want any trouble.”

“Well, we do.” One of them walks over to me and punches my stomach, making me spit blood. The next time the guy tries to punch me, I duck, and he punches the guy holding me in the throat, making him let go of me. I punch the guy in front of me. I uppercut him and he falls, unconscious. I elbow the other guy in the face and turn around and start hitting him. When he is knocked out, the other guy sees me and stops hitting the woman. She isn’t moving and I worry that she might be dead. The last guy charges after me. I run towards a pole, grab it and swing around it, kicking the guy in the face, knocking him out.

I land on the ground safely when they are all knocked out. I tie them up with a rope I find by the construction and then call the police.

I walk over to the woman, who is badly beaten. “Are you okay?” I ask crouching next to the woman, who is resting against a wall.

“No, I think might I have at least five broken bones. It hurts!” She sobs, putting her hand on her stomach, wincing. She might have a broken rib, I note. “I can’t move my legs.” She cries.

“I know. You’re going to be okay.” She stops sobbing a minute later.

I move her leg to put it in a more comfortable position. She winces. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you,” I say, “my name is Mark Smith by the way.”

“It’s not your fault. Nice to meet you, Mark Smith. I’m Skylar. Skylar Dark.”

“Nice to meet you, Skylar. Why were you here anyways?”

“I was jogging, and I was attacked by them.” That’s weird, why would they just randomly attack her? And why was she jogging at night and in the rain?

“Why would they attack you?” I ask out loud.

“They were trying to mug me. I pepper sprayed one of them and then tried to run but they tackled me and then started hitting me.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

She smiles with a bloody lip.

I smile too. “Let me check your wounds to see if they are infected.”

“Ok.”

I shine a light from my flashlight I brought with me on her forehead, which is bleeding. When I’m done checking her wound on her forehead, I check to see if there are any wounds on her arms. There are red gashes and pieces of glass on her arms. “Is it bad?” She asks, seeing my expression.

“Do you want the truth?”

“Yes.”

“Well, there are pieces of glass on your arms probably from when you tried crawling away. It’s bleeding a lot, but other than that, it looks like your wounds aren’t infected,” I say. “are you woozy or nauseous or anything like that?”

“That’s good. I feel a little dizzy.” She replies.

“Try drinking this,” I say, handing her the bottle of water next to her.

When she is done drinking the water, I put my backpack, that I had with me, on the front of my body and put the water bottle in the side pocket.

I have her climb on my back so I can use both of his hands to climb down.

“How are you so strong?” She asks when we get to the ground. I set her down so she can sit.

I chuckle. “What do you mean?”

“You just carried me down a building using your only your legs and arms. How?” She asked, looking up at me.

“I guess it’s because I used to be in gymnastics and I had to be strong to lift the cheerleaders at my school,” I joked, sitting next to her.

“You were in gymnastics?”

“Yeah, I quit when my parents died in a car crash a month ago.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to remind you of that.”

Her head is still bleeding, I note.

“You’re fine. I was thinking about that when I saved you. I wanted to save you like I couldn’t save them. Is it okay if I put my shirt around your head?” I ask, changing the subject before I start tearing up. It is no longer raining.

“Yes, that’s fine.”

I take off my shirt, rip off the sleeves, and wrap it around her head.

She traces my abs, lightly, with one finger when she regains some of her strength. I shiver.

She moves her finger to my bicep. I shiver again.

“Sorry. I should’ve asked first.” She says, no longer touching my skin.

“No, it’s okay. Your fingers are just a little cold.”

“Okay. I just thought they weren’t real.”

I chuckle again. “It’s okay. They are.”

“Well, they look nice on you. I wish I had a boyfriend with these, but sadly, I’m single.”

“Are you flirting with me?” I ask, smiling.

“Possibly.” She laughs. “Ow. That hurt.”

“Are you ok?”

“Yes. I’m fine. I probably shouldn’t have laughed.”

“Ok. Well, maybe you could. You need only ask.”

“No, I don’t think I should right now, I mean, I’m still hurting, and I feel a little woozy.”

“You’re still feeling woozy?”

“Yes.”

“I should call the paramedics. I don’t want you passing out here.”

“Yeah, I think you should too.” She said, leaning against a building we are next to.

“Here, sip this while I call the paramedics,” I say, giving her some of the water she put next to her.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

I pull out my phone and call the ambulance. I tell them what happened, and they get here five minutes later.

I see the medics and then I help her up and I lift her into my arms like the scene from Twilight.

As I’m walking with Skylar in my arms, she falls asleep. I can feel her body getting warmer as the heat from my body transfers to hers.

I smile. I walk to the paramedics who put her on a stretcher.

They wrap bandages around her wounds and hand me my shirt back.

“Thanks,” I say and then I walk back home. As I’m walking home, I realize that I must’ve left my phone with Skylar because I let her call her parents to them what happened and then forgot to get it back. I don’t mind though because, I know this isn’t what I should be thinking about right now but, I can’t stop thinking about her and how pretty she is. When I get to my street, I see my house.

My house is blue, and it is a two-story building with bushes in the front. It has one big window on the first floor and two on the second floor. I fall asleep, on my couch, thirty minutes later, still thinking about Skylar.

Continue Reading Next Chapter

About Us

Inkitt is the world’s first reader-powered publisher, providing a platform to discover hidden talents and turn them into globally successful authors. Write captivating stories, read enchanting novels, and we’ll publish the books our readers love most on our sister app, GALATEA and other formats.