temple like Iâd first feared. Or maybe he had a knife balanced over my head, ready to drop at any moment.
âIf she fails, kick her out,â Mia said. âI want her to have a chance, at least.â
âIâve read her file, and sheâs got âproblemâ written all over it.â Sweet Voice. The woman who had helped bring me here. Only she didnât sound sweet anymore. She sounded pissed. âI donât want to mess with her. New recruits are always a challenge, but sheâs hopeless.â
That hurt. I didnât know the woman, but her words hurt. I drew in a breath, wishing once again that I could see through the fibers of the hood. As it was, I couldnât even see a single ray of light.
âCould you kill?â
Silence.
âPhoenix, could you kill someone?â the one called Mia asked.
âWhat, youâre talking to the lowly little girl now?â
âYes,â she said without remorse.
âI donât know,â I replied honestly. The logical side of my brain told me that no one in their right mind would want a girl to admit to violent tendencies. In the real world, that would get me placed in isolation or lockup. After the âviolent and bloodthirstyâ comment, thoughâ¦
That night in the forest, I could have killed. Had wanted to kill. The Sybilins were evil, vile, destructive. They shouldnât be allowed to live or theyâd hurt more people. But, would I be able to kill someoneâsomethingâelse? A living being? âWith or without provocation?â I asked.
âEither.â
I sighed. âMaybe. Probably.â
A pause.
âAre you afraid of pain?â
âWhat do you think?â I answered dryly.
The rustle of paper, the shift of a body. âLetâs see.â Deep Voice paused. âIn the tenth grade, you were in a fight with a human female double your weight. You required sixteen stitches in your neck.â
âSo.â
âSo, most people are so afraid of pain they would not have challengedâor accepted the challengeâof someone larger than themselves.â
âShe knifed me,â I said, recalling that day. Iâd been walking to class, minding my own business, and a girl Iâd never spoken with had reached out and sliced my neck with a plastic kitchen knife sheâd sharpened and honed.
âHeâs mine,â sheâd screamed.
Apparently, sheâd wanted the boy Iâd gotten high with the night before. Rumors had surfaced that weâd had sex, and sheâd gone a little crazy. The moment Iâd realized what sheâd done, I had jumped her. Attacked, full force, unconcerned about her size or my lack of size. Iâd had only one thought: stop her. Sheâd been aiming for my face, Iâd later learned, wanting to scar me.
I had a scar, but it stretched the left side of my neck and was covered when I wore my hair down.
âIn eleventh grade, you broke three bones in your wrist,â Deep Voice continued.
âYeah. So?â
âAgain with the so,â Roses muttered. âExplain how that came about.â
My fingers were beginning to swell from lack of movement so I flexed them as I spoke. âI was in a fight. Again.â
âFor?â
âA new girl at school called my friend a bitch. I reacted. It was dumb,â I added. But I hadnât thought so at the time. Iâd been coming down from a high, and Iâd been enraged by everything and everyone. I would have attacked anyone for any ridiculous reason.
âAny other questions for this girl?â Deep Voice asked.
I knew he wasnât talking to me.
Shuffle of feet, the squeak of wheels. I could picture these peopleâhowever many there wereâhuddling together andâ¦yes, they were whispering. I heard the frantic rasp of their voices. I knew they were discussing me, my answers.
âI donât think any more are necessary,â Roses