Page 1 of Killer (Project)

prologue

killer

It all startedwith akiss.

It wasn’t one of those sappy ass ones, either. You know, where there is affection with electricity flowing through your body and you just fucking know they’re the one for you. No, this was a different kind of kiss. It wasn’t a spark, but a mere touch of one’s skin against another. I would like to think that somehow the simple gesture had triggered something into motion. Like that one kiss changed the world around us, tilting the perpetual axis. Like somehow that one kiss had signified our entire being of life—it didn’t.

That kiss meant nothing, and the feelings that formed from within because of it meant nothing. Every time I thought of Maggie, the way her brown hair billowed in the wind, the way her small hands clasped mine, it reminded me of the illness, the death that plagued me. It reminded me of the clock that slowly ticked inside of me.

I was dying, and there was nothing anyone could do. There was no cure, no miracle for someone like me. After all, millions of people lost their loved ones, so what would one more loss be? What would me not dying do for the world?Nothing.

Eventually, I would be replaced. The school would get a new student, the teachers would forget I ever existed and Maggie... sweet little Maggie would move on and find someone new. My parents would have another child and life would be normal.Normal, for everyone but me.

See, I wouldn’t get to live such a lavish life. No, the life I would live would make me wish the cancer had killed me. That it had eaten away at everything that made me who I was. Why, you ask? Simply because the person I was morphing into, the man they were creating me to become—was anything less than death. He was ruthless, angry, and hateful. He thought of no one but himself. He was careless, his needs only being met with sex and violence.

His memories would be wiped away, yet a small girl with red cheeks and brown hair would still find her way into his dreams. He would grow to hate that little girl for not being able to remember the memories of her while driving himself insane wondering where she came from.

He would eventually become one of the world’s best-trained fighters. Genetically mutated to the government’s liking. Turned into something he never wanted—something he never should’ve been.

Now, you see, his legacy, or the memories of who he was, would never be remembered because there was nothing to remember about a twelve-year-old boy who should be dead. No family, friends, or loved ones to care.

He was a killer—and I am he.

one

maggie—the past

I hated whenthe other kids laughed at him. They would push and shove him, not even caring he was sick. Sometimes, I wanted to push them back or scream for them to leave him alone. Except I knew no one would listen to me. They never did. Instead, I sat in the background waiting for the moment I could swoop in and care for him.

He was taller than the other kids were—even at the age of sixteen—and just as cute. It didn’t matter to me how his skin was almost always ghostly white or how, instead of jeans, he would much rather be wearing something that didn’t cling to his body. To me, he was perfect.

“What’s a matter, Diesel…? Maggie not make you your breakfast this morning?” Roger, one of the biggest bullies of them all, mocked Diesel. This was a regular occurrence on the bus. Every morning this same conversation would take place. I was starting to wonder, when would it stop? Diesel ignored him like always and stared out the window. I watched from the seat across from him as Roger sat behind him and shoved his knees into the back of his seat.

Fury grew deep within me, raging like a burning fire. Oh, how I hated what was going on. Diesel had told me many times how me sticking up for him just made things worse for him, and for me. That there was nothing like a girl sticking up for a boy. It was against the rules. Lucky for him and me, I didn’t play by the rules. One would say I was a rule breaker.

“Knock it off, Roger,” I murmured. Diesel’s steel blue eyes turned to mine shooting daggers at me. I could tell by his one single look that I had angered him.

“Awe, what was that you said, Maggie? I couldn’t quite hear you, but then again, most of us never do.” He belittled me, laughing as his friends joined in the mockery.

“Just leave her alone,” Diesel exclaimed giving them the satisfaction they wanted. They wanted him to talk, to stick up for me—for anything—simply because it showed he had a weakness for something… for someone.

“You guys hear this? He wants us to leave Maggie alone.” Roger mocked some more, and I did whatever I could not to turn toward Diesel to take in his expression.

You’re a weakness to him. They will use you to get to him. I repeated the same words over and over again in my mind.

I became momentarily distracted as I talked myself out of sticking up for him again. So much so, I hadn’t noticed Roger had slipped into my seat. I turned, staring into his eyes. They were a dark brown that had most of the girls in the school falling at his feet. All except me. I knew the meanness lingered just under the surface. He was a monster in disguise.

“Maggie…” he hissed as one of his fingers gripped a lock of my hair. A tingle of pain radiated through my scalp as a soft yelp left my lips.

“Leave me alone, Roger.” I kept my voice stern and strong not wanting him to think his hair pulling had gotten the best of me.

“Leave you alone…?” he mocked, a sick smile forming on his face. If Roger weren’t such a dog, one would consider him cute. He had that beautiful sandy brown hair, and he was tall and played all kinds of sports. His parents could afford it, unlike Diesel’s or mine. He was perfect in the eyes of everyone around us, and that’s what set him apart. No one expected his behavior.

“Roger, this is taking it a little far.” Diesel tried to hide the panic in his voice, but you could tell what Roger was doing was getting to him. It was times like these that even if he had said we weren’t friends—because a dying person couldn’t make friends with someone in such a short amount of time—I knew I meant something to him.

“Does it bother you when I touch her, Diesel? Are you jealous?” Roger taunted, his hand slipping onto my leg. I was wearing a skirt, which was an unfortunate wardrobe choice for the day. I swatted his hand away, only for him to bring it back and grip my thigh hard.

“Let go of me,” I growled, growing angrier with every passing second. Roger had never taken it this far. He had never touched me in a physical nature before.

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