The Assassin's Secret


Such a wonderful thing isn't it?

You know, we do possess a right to live, a right to freewill .

Some choose to use that right for the greater good and choose to abuse it.

We created this world by our actions, we were supposed to be the ones to make a difference ; Our society ended up being worse than the society that began this mess in the first place.
I wanted change, no desired it. Our society was built on desire and secrets , deceit and greed .

I wanted the game to stop.

But it had already begun.


9. Segregate


(Hailey Stone’s POV)

The girl came in, positioned in her wheelchair, only her eyes were filled with distress and what I hinted as fear, yet her body language only presented to me a sort of aura about her that suggested an attempt at confidence. It was only when I flicked my fingers as to turn the lights on that I really got to have a look at who sat in my presence,

“Brianna Ricci…” I spat (control yourself, Hailey! You have a job to do)

I expected her to throw insults; I wanted her to say something, anything! All Ricci did was smile – though it seemed very cold and calculated.

So that’s how you want to play it, Princess

“Duck.” I called out

The cocky demeanor had long gone, her face looked incredibly puzzled

I threw the axe that had been in my hand at her direction (it wouldn’t hit her face, but just cut blocks of her hair) Ricci immediately jumped off the wheelchair and collapsed onto the concrete floor, I approached her again and kicked her stomach area hard

“Duck.” I said again as my fist was about to his Ricci’s face

But then the unbelievable occurred

She fought back


At first she deflected my moves before beginning to attack back at me, in a way I hadn’t seen anybody attempted before. I had never been properly challenged. Never.

She finally kicked me hard on the stomach before turning to me and whispering to me,

“My sister is dead; I really don’t need anyone’s rubbish right now.”

When I said nothing in reply to that comment, Brianna began to lose her composure completely and bellowed,

“GO ON AND KILL ME THEN! I DON’T CARE!” before kneeling onto the floor and sobbing quietly. I had never seen someone that broken.

She began to scream, more and more, rocking back and forth, entering into what one could presume as a dark place.

The weirdest thing was that I let her.

The screams brought me back to a place I wished to avoid, that my brain specifically buried deep in the cabinets of memories



Sometimes I'd wished to run away. Create a false identity and move to Port-Latina (what used to be Spain and Portugal) , maybe meet someone and grow old and ultimately die.  

But that would never happen.

This was a jail. A more expansive version of Alcatraz.

He had promised peace after the Eclipse War that destroyed and annihilated most of what used to be known as The United Kingdom. Instead we received poverty, inequality and segregation. President Ricci’s whole demeanor screams power-hungry and crude, they tried to cover up a murder four years ago! Let me tell you something, I joined The Sparks for a purpose. To destroy the House of Ricci one by one. He killed my sister in cold-blood.

Why you ask?

Because of her ethnicity.


I was born in D. It was only me and Melissa (my older sister). Our parents were murdered on the streets. Happily walking to work when they were cornered by some of the Prosperous in our area, they demanded that they should bow down to them as apparently they were the superior to them because of their status. Actually this was a law in Requa - one that father hated. When they refused, the men battered them bloody until the last breath was drawn. They died because they stood up for themselves.

The day they died was their wedding anniversary

We were forbidden to speak blasphemous things against the Government and yet he did, through his paintings.

You see, my father may have worked as a shoe polisher, but he had a gift in art. His art could only be understood by those who had thinking just like him. He would trade his best trade (in the black market of course) with the Art Merchant in order to gain access of a canvas and paints. Then he'd go home into his little shed, located at the corner of our little box-sized garden, and paint. All of his emotions and anger would be incredibly transformed into a painting. Vivid crimsons, ambers and yellows representing the fury at the Government for failing at its priority promise of peace. Gushing wind to represent the chaos occurring within the Sectors. A tree rising (slowly growing) to represent a revolt gradually spewing; The Sparks. 

Two years later my sister was killed in an attempt to help a poor man being callously beaten for a crime he blatantly didn't commit.

They shot her on sight.


That was the first and only time I visibly cried in front of people.



“My name is Hailey Stone, I’m sorry for your loss but you need to stop crying and start fighting, for her sake”

We shook hands.

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