TITLE: The Reluctant Assassin
GENRE: YA Fantasy
Whenever my father watched my lessons, he liked to tell me that killing my instructor would be easy. I always countered in my head that there wasn't anything easy about death; it was messy and brutal.
I was glad my father wasn't here today. The added pressure of my father's stare as I trained never failed to nauseate me. Just the weight of the sword in my hand already made my stomach twist. No doubt he would have started calling me pathetic by now or calling me his useless child. But imagining him saying those words to me now had my grip tighten around the sword and my hand steady, a desire building in me to strike back at him.
"Kella, attack!" my instructor yelled. He was waiting for me to pounce on him so we could spar, but I hesitated.
I knew I had to be extra careful because no matter how much I denied it, in the far back of my mind I had to admit my father was right: I could kill my instructor easily. I was cursed to be a fighter, and each spar brought me closer to turning into the thing I was destined to be but hated--a killer.
It was too easy to imagine my swift movements bringing me forward before my instructor could blink, slashing through his stomach. The image of his ripped skin and the rushing of his blood and guts tormented my mind.