I breathed in heavily. I could feel eyes watching me from all corners of my bedroom. There were three directly outside my window, two on the upper floor, and at least one by the doorway to my room. All just out of the surveillance range of the nanny bot, but close enough to spring into action the minute I woke up and started walking around. I had about 1 minute to react in the exact manner that would get me out of this room fast, if not I was trapped here for life.

Thankfully I had carefully and meticulously planned for this day, months in advance. There was a detailed breakdown of how to escape an assassin foster family on the High Break website, and one poster even went into detail about Winter Manor, the ins and outs, and updated techniques and tricks to counter the countermeasures that had been put in place to deter High Breakers.

I breathed out heavily. I could do this. I hadn’t tirelessly practised jumping roofs and swinging off bannisters for years for nothing. It was this way, or 17 more years of this torture, by then would I even be able to leave? Or would I become just another husk in the family assassin production line?

30 sec left.

I breathed in.

Show time.

I opened my eyes. I was already dressed. My weapon of choice was my 36 daggers and a clothes hanger. I could feel the nerves set in, however, I remember what poster Assass_In_Their_Face99  said “If nerves get you, then put in your earphones, turn on your favour song, and ACT LIKE YOU’RE IN TRAINING DAMN IT, either you break out, or they break you”

20 sec.

I rolled over like I was getting out of bed on a regular day. The key to confusing the assassins stationed on the top and bottom floors was not to make any sudden movements. Walk like you’re just getting up like it’s a normal day.

To confuse the assassins who have your in sight, perform your regular habits. Whatever you have been practising as your projected behaviour on the day of your Job fair, do it every day for at least five years. Make it believable. Make it count.

So here it goes.

Routine 1: Look under the bed for a rolled-up pair of socks – it helps if you check to see if there is an assassin stationed there – Yes one - act like you don’t see them. Grab a rolled-up pair of socks.

Routine 2: Pull on socks and make direct eye contact with the wardrobe across the room – check the gap to see if the perfectly organised interior has anything off – yes there is a shadow where there usually is a red glare – Assassin Two is located behind the wardrobe door.

Routine 3: Look around for boots, ( always throw them about the night before so that it looks like you are careless, however, throw them in two specific places 1) A blind spot, and 2) a hiding spot. By locating the boot in the blind spot, you can check to see if there is an assassin. No assassin, they must have moved to the hiding spot. Now look for the boot in the hiding spot – yes there is an assassin there, trying to conceal themselves behind the laundry basket. Act normal, act normal.

Routine 4: Grab “gear”. Not that you need it, as you have gone to bed with 36 polished daggers for 5 years straight, no this is just for show. Also, you need a change of clothes, so that once you get past the gate, you can cause another diversion to increase your chances of success.

I was set to grab my gear, which was a leather bag with a change of workout clothes, however, I noticed that there was an unfamiliar red emblem sewn into the handle of the bag. At first, I hesitated, this was a concealed tracker, however, quick thinking made me realise I could use that to my advantage, and throw it to the side to create a wild goose chase and increase the chances even further of getting away in time to register for the job fair.

I picked up the bag nonchalantly and swung it on. It was heavier than usual, there must have been something extra snuck into it, no matter, I’d face that hurdle when it arose.

10 sec.

Now it was just a harp and mp3 player. We were allowed our phones on the day of the job fair. All items that belong to the family were confiscated the night before, as a subtle threat and an attempt to control all communication with the outside world. This was why years ago, I had bought a shitty archaic solar-powered clip on mp3 player and uploaded a few city pop beats that I would work out to. A lot of people made fun of me and said that I looked dumb in my Bluetooth headphones doing my stretches, however, I paid them no mind. If Assass_In_Their_Face99 managed to escape on an electro-beat playlist, then my city pop-bop was gonna carry me as well.

1 sec.

I clipped on my MP3 player and snapped on my headphones. As I turned on my MP3 player, I could hear all the assassins in the room start to move. I acted as if I was completely oblivious, and as the beat dropped, so did the assassin on the ceiling.

Side Step.

Before the knife could reach me, I bent low as I had practised and pushed down on the loose floorboard that I had been shifting and kicking for the last ten years in a “tantrum”. The floorboard gave way and the assassin found themselves falling right through the floor into the small space between floor and ceiling. The surprise bought me the few seconds that I needed to skip to the blind spot, and so when the assassins who could see what was going on through the window swung in, they all lunged for the assassin who was standing still in the hole, who looked like me, standing motionless.

As they hurdled towards the unsuspecting trapped assassin, I slipped out of the bling spot and threw out a book while slipping into the still-occupied hiding spot. At this point the two assassins who had come in and one on the floor realised their error and after pulling their comrade out of the floor, headed for the window. In that brief confusion, I had put the hiding assassin to sleep with a few sharp japs at specific pressure points and propped their limp body to the side in the hiding place, while I slipped into the wardrobe through a false wall, and attacked the other hidden assassin from the side before he could make a sound and give away my presence in the room.

I still could not leave as there were assassins guarding the bedroom door, so I pushed out the sleeping assassin from my wardrobe, and rolled him towards the door, just in sight of whoever was standing guard, but not enough for them to be able to decern who it was, and would have to move from their spot to check on said person.

Just as I was thinking my plan was going smoothly, I realised I didn’t account for how many would be on guard outside my door. I noticed three snipper red dots appear on the limp assassin’s body and I sucked in my breath. If there were three out there, three out the window and two asleep on the floor, that meant that there must have been more in the corridor and on the second floor. There went my "front door" approach.

I peeked out the crack in my wardrobe and looked up at the roof. It was a long shot, but if the three assassins had followed the noise and jumped down to the backyard, that would mean that there was a high chance no one was on the roof as that was their initial position.

As the assassin in the hiding spot groaned, starting to come around from the brief daze I had put her in, I turned up the music.

Just like training. Roll, flip, grab the ledge and push up. Roll flip, grab the ledge and push up. I could do this.

I counted to ten and, knowing that there was no going back. I was about to make the most noise I had made in the last two years. It was all or nothing.

“Hey! That’s not Alaina!” A voice said from outside my room and I bolted.

I rolled across the floor to the best vantage point, and in one fluid motion, flipped over as I would a cartwheel, which immediately set me up to grab the window ledge, and as I had done so many times down at the monkey bars, pushed up, so that I bent backwards mid-air, propelling my lower half upwards, so that my toes could reach the edge of the roof.

With my heels hooked on for dear life, I could, for a second, take in the scene of pure confusion. My foster parents were out in the backyard, both standing akimbo, staring directly up at my window. A Regal vampire with years of experience as a great knight, now turned assassin, Alan Winter was a formidable person, and as his ice-cold glare spotted me from a distance, I was even more determined to make a clean break, because a reunion with my undead foster father, was one I would prefer to miss.

Beside him bristled my foster mother, a beautiful Moth woman, who was known in battle to have taken down a whole militia of rebel warriors for the sake of the High Council. She now proudly made underhanded deals with people like that in the black market, having made a fortune from the profit of the stolen loot after her team had raided those lands, all for the sake of settling development in uncharted planets.

She too observed me coldly, my image reflected in her thousand lenses, and the look she was giving me was a clear look of disapproval and anger, for I was supposed to be her protégé, the first butterfly First Class Knight from the Winter Family. After all, they had given me, how could I do this?

But do this I must. My family had their teeth deep in the black market, dark affairs and undocumented murders. And after all of that, they still refused to let me major as a Bard!

Screw Them! I thought to myself and as I saw the assassins fill the backyard and start scaling the wall to get to me, I did the same heel pull-up that I had practised for months and flipped myself onto the roof.