DANGEROUS OBSESSION

14

LAUREN MOSS

I simply ignore them and walk toward wherever they’re going. It’s not any of the rooms we went to yesterday.

“Noah!” I call him as soon as I get close.

“Did you manage to rest?” he asks, smiling as we walk inside.

“A little, yes,” I answer, observing everything in this room, and a shiver runs through my body.

Guns. Targets.

For the love of God.

What were you thinking, Lauren? That you’re in some super hyper mega secret training to become a possible FBI agent and there wouldn’t be weapons training? Shooting?

“What are we going to do?” I ask.

“Probably learn how to handle a new type of weapon.” Type of weapon.

Of course there are more types, and obviously we’re going to learn how to use all of them.

God…

“You look scared,” he comments, and I lift my eyes to him. “You already held a gun during the exam,” he says.

I held a gun and killed an assassin, who still counts as a person, my dear.

“Who wouldn’t be?” I ask rhetorically, and my gaze lands on none other than Blake, in that uniform of his. His blue eyes pierce into mine the moment they meet my stare.

My body shivers in a completely inconvenient way, and a sudden heat floods me out of nowhere.

His gaze doesn’t linger on me for long and moves on to the rest as he starts speaking. But the point is: I wasn’t listening to a single thing that attractive mouth of his was saying.

My eyes simply refuse to obey me and watch every tiny gesture he makes, which is strangely attractive.

The black uniform on him makes me start imagining things I absolutely shouldn’t.

He’s extremely attractive. His black hair creates a sinful contrast with his blue eyes and tempting lips, and his hands…

Lauren, for the love of God!

“Lauren!” I hear one of the girls say, and I look at her, snapping back to myself.

“Forward,” she says, and I don’t understand a single thing about what I’m supposed to do now or what he was explaining.

What is wrong with you, Lauren?

I simply look forward and see the others entering booths, so I just follow them, hating myself.

I must be getting crazy, that’s the only explanation.

I step into the booth and just imitate the others: put on the glasses, the headphones, and the rest of the gear.

The gun is right in front of me.

“Pay attention to the clock in front of you,” Blake’s voice echoes, warning us, and I look at it.

My heart is beating way too fast, because I have no idea where the hell my head was that I didn’t pay any attention to what we’re supposed to do.

If I don’t learn this, I have the possibility of going to prison.

I look at the gun—it’s one of those heavy ones—then at the target, which is at a pretty decent distance.

I decide to stop and look at whoever’s next to me to see how they unlock it and load the stuff into this gun.

And if… if it’s still turned towards me?

Well, dying isn’t the worst option…

“Lauren, for the love of God…” I mumble to myself.

I hear a shot beside me and glance over to see how the person is doing it. My clock has already started.

“Moss, any problem?” I hear Blake’s voice behind me, and I sigh as a shiver runs down my spine.

“No…” I answer him, loading the ammunition and feeling him step away. I breathe out the air I didn’t even know I’d been holding.

Pay attention, Lauren!

I simply imitate the way they’re doing it, focus on the target in front of me, and shoot.

Okay, not bad…

Let’s go!

I try to speed up and hit the center. After two more attempts, I hit it.

This gun is heavy.

But I hit it. And once I hit it, I only kept hitting until the time ran out. A sound echoes through the room, and everyone leaves their booths.

I remove the equipment, set it where it was, and leave the booth as well.

On the screen in the center, names and hit scores start appearing. I’m in third place, losing to the guy who decided to pick a fight in the cafeteria. After him, one of the girls who always gives me that judgmental look. Then me. From first to third, I only lost by three hits.

Not bad…

And I didn’t get third place alone; I tied with Apia and three other people.

“Those who tied for third place, back to the booth,” Blake orders, and I head back there.

I put the equipment on again, and this time, I pay attention to the clock. When it signals, I limit myself to just hitting, and that’s what I did until time ran out.

We leave, and I don’t take the equipment off until I see my position. And oh, great… I moved up to first place!

I get a pat on the back from Apia, who finished second.

“Good girl!” she says discreetly, and I smile, feeling my face heat up when Blake’s eyes, completely unreadable, meet mine.

Not even a “great job” this time.

He sends us to the other side and orders the next group to proceed. They were the remaining ones who had tied.

After that, he pointed out a few things and moved on to the technical explanation.

Which I thought would be no big deal, since we started with the practical part, but I was terribly mistaken.

He explains while holding the gun.

Talks about the components, in case certain things happen, like mechanical failures or sabotage.

Explains what to do and how to proceed to make sure we get the shot off before getting hit or losing the target, whatever the situation may be.

When I thought he was done, the whole room changed layout, just like yesterday. It’s another test, with all the scenarios he mentioned during his explanation. He gives the signal for us to start, then looks at me.

“Try not to dislocate anything this time, Moss,” he says…

Wait… is he provoking me?

I try not to respond with a grimace and just nod. He signals, and we begin.

Without a shadow of a doubt, this was the worst test so far. Not only because it was heavy, extremely heavy, but because my memory betrayed me, and not just a little.

I almost fell off here, from a height of about ten to twelve meters, because the memory felt so real that I saw that man who is dead, right in front of me.

My luck was the small safety bar that was there.

I finished the test after that, not in the time I wanted, obviously, and practically debilitated, physically and mentally, and extremely out of breath.

That same feeling of guilt started eating me alive again, when at least I thought I had gotten better about it… or so I thought.

I try not to show how vulnerable I am after the test. I just take a deep breath and leave the area.

I go sit with the others. Not satisfied with my performance, but also not too disappointed, because it’s within the average so far.

My mind simply won’t leave me alone. I couldn’t pay attention to anything else, so I just stay quiet in my corner until everything ends.

Today is definitely not my day.

“Lauren!” I hear Apia call me.

I look at her and realize everyone is already leaving. “What?” I answer, getting up.

“You’re daydreaming,” she says. “Did something happen? Are you okay?” she asks as we walk out. Blake isn’t even here anymore.

“I am,” I say, sighing and stopping to observe her. “What?” she asks.

“Have you ever killed someone?” I ask, and she smiles.

“Is that why you’re like this?” she asks, still smiling.

“Lauren, everyone here has probably killed countless people, directly or indirectly. We’ll be next, if necessary,” she says with an absurd level of naturalness.

“You shouldn’t worry about that, if that’s why you’re like this,” she continues as we walk. I sigh and follow at her side.

“Especially being here,” she adds.

“What do you mean?” I ask her.

“We’re in the place of people who would give their lives to be here. If this were their dream, of course,” she explains. “Special agents of the biggest and best secret organization in the world,” she adds. “This isn’t some regular training to become an ordinary agent of the FBI or any other agency,” she says, and the way she talks about it makes the weight of it all sink in even more.

“Secret agents,” she concludes. “We’ll be dealing with assassins of an exorbitant category and catastrophically dangerous cases, where killing will be necessary so you don’t die. And you won’t even feel sorry, knowing why they’re criminals,” she says.

“That’s not the point—killing or not killing a criminal and not feeling sorry,” I say, sitting on a bench with her.

“The point is your mental integrity. The remorse of having taken a life. That’s what I’m talking about. It’s not like killing a mosquito,” I say, tormented.

“Lauren, if the cases mess with your head, you won’t feel remorse for any criminal,” she says.

I sigh.

“Lord have mercy,” I murmur.

“And your father?” she asks out of nowhere, and I look at her. “What about him?” I ask.

“No, you mentioned they pulled you out of here because of him,” she says. I already feel a few curious gazes from people pretending not to listen.

“Like all of you, I’m under secrecy here. Nobody knows I’m here,” I make clear. “And well, to be here, I needed a lie. And my father went to the place where that lie was supposed to be, wanting to see me,” I explain. “Simply not to compromise everything, I went,” I add, and she nods.

“I see,” she says, nodding again.

“Apparently she can’t even lie properly,” the girl says to her friends, and I turn around already fed up.

“I barely heard you. Come say that to my face,” I say, staring at her, and she looks at me with a mocking smile.

“One more thing you should practice if you want to be here,” she says, and I stare at her.

“What’s your problem with me?” I question, irritated.

“Mine? No. Everyone’s,” she answers, and I keep staring as everyone else’s eyes are already on me.

“Because what the hell do you have to be here?” she asks, and honestly, I ask myself the same thing. “What skills do you have?” she presses. “Yesterday you even tried flirting with Blake Wray, and now you want to pick a fight with someone you shouldn’t,” she says, and I sigh.

“If you have so many doubts about my capabilities here, we’ll have the answer over time,” I say. “Why am I here? If my presence bothers you that much, go talk to someone and question them, ‘Miss Knows-It-All,’ about what’s right and wrong and about the FBI’s decisions,” I retort.

“And another thing, you all don’t need to meddle with me, because since I arrived, I’ve stayed in my corner,” I continue. “Try talking about me behind my back again and insinuate one more time that I’m trying to seduce someone and you’ll see… I’m not like you,” I fire back anyway.

I see Noah smile, and Apia grabs my hand.

Her expression is nervous, but I’m not afraid. What’s the worst this girl can do?

Next time she has a gun in her hand, pretend she’s distracted and shoot me? Nothing major, right?

“You don’t know who you’re messing with, girl,” she says, and the alarm goes off. “I’d love to find out,” I respond, giving her a wink, and oh—she’s pissed.

“Idiot.”

She walks ahead, and I sigh, walking with Apia.

“Very well,” Apia’s crush says, coming over to hug her from behind, and he smiles at me. I just smile back.

I thought I’d be dealing with people more mentally stable than me here, but apparently, I was mistaken.

Not like I’m not used to arguing. I have three older siblings, and what siblings, right?

Anyways…

We enter the classroom, and me thinking we’d only have the same subjects from yesterday…

How innocent I am!

Well, it was three subjects today, not counting the first one. The last was physics, and the other two drained me.

Too much.

There’s physics, but not regular school physics. This is astronaut-level physics.

And ta-dah… criminology.

Imagine how my head is right now? It’s hurting.

Too much.

I lean back on the bench and take a deep breath, trying to calm my breathing after that class.

“Tomorrow, three people will be eliminated. With this resilience…” the girl says. Her name is Jennifer.

“Have you ever heard the saying ‘the fish dies by the mouth’?” I ask. “It would be too painful to keep talking all this nonsense and then none of your predictions happen the way you expect,” I retort.

“We’ll see tomorrow,” she says, and I sigh.

“Stop it, Jennifer,” Noah says, and she looks up at him, slightly irritated, then leaves.

Seriously… I can’t catch a break with these people.

The alarm goes off, indicating dinner.

Well, I’m going to eat right away, then take my shower so I can study a bit.