THE SCARS

CHAPTER 1: INTRODUCTION

You know after about 5 years in assassin school, you start to notice things. Like how Chase flinches every time someone gets too close to him, a sure sign of a kid who was raped. Or like how Max always scratches his nose every time he sees someone having a private conversion. These kinds of things normal people don't notice.

But even a civilian would be able to tell that my classmates were avoiding me.

Not that I couldn't blame them, after all I did go against the Circle.

Wait, I should probably bring you up to speed.

Today was the first day of my junior year, my summer consisted of Russian missions and staying away from the Circle. I haven't seen my "friends" since last year.

At least now I didn't have to deal with their teasing or laughing or bullying. Now, it was like I didn't even exist. But for someone who was born to be invisible, that's not a bad thing.

In fact, it's probably the best thing that has ever happened to me.

So why do I feel like shit?

It's that weird feeling in the pit of my stomach telling me I'm not okay.

It's the itch on my wrists and the call of unfinished business.

It's the looks on the faces of every Blackthorne Boy ever. It's the happy faces, but sad eyes that scream to be saved.

Walking through the doors on the first day, I couldn't help but notice these things. But I didn't notice them as a spy; I noticed them as a human. As a being with feelings.

I saw them for what they were, not as emotionless assassins ready to come back to school, but as scared and lost boys who only yearned to be accepted. And that's the true thing that bonded us; it's what made us brothers. As Blackthorne Boys we wanted nothing more than to be loved.

Our pasts have taken our innocence and natural goodness and replaced it with cold hatred. We were scarred by those around us.

Those who we called family and friends, those who we assumed would always love us; they let us down.

But I feel this thing in the bottom of my stomach. Hope.

Hope that maybe one day we won't be the shells of the people we once were. Hope that one day we'll do things for good causes. Hope that one day we won't be broken anymore.

Hope because our tormentors are gone, they can't cause us anymore pain.

Hope because someday, eventually, the scars will heal.

Well, its seems I'm back. After forever and a half, I've resurrected from hell to write you an equally depressing sequel to my story.

Danie