Nonexistent

NINE- Rogue

THE next morning, while its still dark out, I sneak to the training room. Not being able to sleep, I think it'll be best to ready myself for the upcoming Finals. And when I realize its in three days, and my stomach churns. 

The Finals has always seemed so distant. Somehow, I felt like I had all the time in the world to get ready before I actually needed to address it. But reality check-- it'll be slapping my face in three days. And after all the crazy things that have been happening recently, it's an understatement to say I'm not ready.

I enter the training room; it's open twenty-four-seven. When you leave, though, you'll have to pass through security checks from different machines, ensuring you don't bring any of the equipment of the training room out.

"Rule number one, weapons from the room, stay in the room." 

I remember that's what my first instructor told us when we entered this room for the very first time back when I was a mere eight-year-old. Before that, all we had were small discipline rooms where we practiced our newfound powers for the first time.

I sigh at the memory and walk through the door of the training room. The movement sensors activate the lights, and they flicker on one-by-one. There are sections of the room that remain completely dark, most of which are little compartments used for one-on-one training.

I head to the weapons section and take the knives from a rack, throw them in the air a couple of times, and twirl them around my fingers to ease my stress. Then I head to the targets and throw all knives at once. 

Two stab the board inches away from the bull's eye, but one lands dead centre on the third target. Smiling in satisfaction, I hold out my hand and watch as the knives shoot back into my grasp. After retrieving the knives and repeating the process several times, my mind starts calming down.

That's when I hear some whispers in one of the dark compartments-- the ones they use for one-on-one trainings. Looks like I'm not the only one who had a restless night. As if on instinct, my feet slowly inch their way to the hushed voices, in a dark corner of the room.

"Just relax, and focus. You'll pass the Finals, I'm sure of it."

Mason.

"Yeah, you're probably right."

Celeste.

"But...?" He sounds genuinely worried.

"I don't know, anymore."

Silence lingers, and for a moment I wonder if they have caught me eavesdropping. I'm relieved when they continue. Celeste speaks again.

"It's just," she starts. "I-I'm always the weakest among the three of us and I don't think I can ev--"

She's cut off, and I pause, racking my brain for a reason to cause her to stop. When I can't think of any, I quietly peek over from the shadows, curious to know why she stopped mid-sentence-- and see something that I never imagined to be possible.

Mason being Celeste's first kiss.

Or maybe not her first. How many meetings like this did they have without me knowing? Was I too concentrated on the military that I became blind towards the romance blooming between my best friend and my very own sister?

As I stare at them, I see its not one of those aggressive, mushy kisses that make me instinctively look away in disgust. I actually keep my eyes glued to the two figures in the dark, in a bittersweet moment. The kiss is soft, and somewhat sad. Almost like a goodbye...

When they part, I lean closer to make out Mason's words.

"You'll make it."

"How are you so sure?"

"Trust me, you will. I promise."

And Celeste sighs in defeat. "I trust you." She looks around and adds, "Now let's do some actual training, shall we?" Then there's a pause.

"Wait. Someone's watching," Celeste says, and her keen eyes look straight in my direction.

And I take that as my cue to race back up to my room.