"Megan you're late." Blake states from behind the table. The students turn to look at me, smug smiles on all of their faces. No excuse will save me. No amount of pleading will lessen my punishment. They stand around a table which seems to have some experiment on it. Glass wear filled with bright neon liquids.
"Sorr-y." I place my things on the floor and gather to see the experiment. Blake holds her sinister smile the other students filled with amusement.
"Megan, perfect I needed a volunteer." Of course you do. I push to the front trying to remember all the notes we've taken.
"Let me introduce you to the Reapers kiss." She points to a test tube with clear liquid in it, with pride. Although she's smiling she looks more sinister than ever. She's a slim woman with a black pixie cut. Her eye patch and lab coat add to her horror appeal. "One sip and you wish you were dead. Two and you will." She informs taking a step back from the table. She is the face of death. She reeks of evil and standing this close I struggle to keep myself from fleeing. "Now neutralise it." A few students, like two, exchange looks of horror and the others smile at my misfortune.
"Then drink it." She adds a menacing look in her eye. I swallow the rising lump in my throat. A day in Westfield academy, is a day in hell. Put the most villianist people in one place, things get interesting. We have an average death toll of one a week on good days but we all knew what we were signing up for.
"All you need is on the table. Proceed." She positions me in front of the deadly liquid. Neutralisation. Have we even covered it? My mind goes completely blank. Not one single thing returns to my mind. Of course it's like her to use me as a test dummy for a new section of work. I stare at the different liquids in front of me. Different shades of blue and red. Swirls of green and brown. Yellows and pinks. Then drink it. My life is on the line. I have to drink this stuff.
"We don't have all day." Blake urges me on watching over my shoulder like a hawk. I don't know where to start but if I do nothing.... I swallow. I pick up the green solution being careful not to spill it. It's okay. If I get it wrong she's obviously not going to make me drink it.

Right?

I pour about half into the clear liquid. I look over at Blake for any sign of approval but her expression is one of a marble statue. I pick up the next solution pouring in a drop. The Reapers kiss turns bright yellow.

Yellow?

Is this good? I pick up the pink next some students pulling in a sharp breath. I look up but their faces are neutral. No sign of help. Pink is bad? I put down the pink toxin my classmates not giving me any indication of approval. I get the closest blue pouring it in until the solution turns green. Green for go. I don't know. I keep pouring different solutions until the Reapers kiss is jet black. Black! The Reapers kiss looks like death. It is death. She can't make me drink that.
"If you're satisfied with your work, drink it." Blake steps forward to stand next to me. For comfort or to catch me when I collapse. I lift the test tube from its holder bringing it to my lips. My hands is filled with sweat. My heart hammering at my rib cage. I look over at her waiting for her to knock the toxic solution out my hand but she just urges me on. Her presence is strong and eye intense. She's not going to let me leave without taking a sip. She said one sip can't kill you. A small sip won't hurt. I got to trust myself. Maybe this black coloured death tastes like strawberries. I take a sip of the solution. Instantly my throat burns. My stomach twists at the taste. My lips try to squirm away as I fight every impulse to keep the fiery stuff in my stomach. Doesn't taste like strawberries. It so doesn't taste like strawberries. So this is what death tastes like.

Her chuckle was light and laced with a hum of amusement. "Now that was entertaining." She snickers grabbing the solution from my hand. I try to swallow the bitter and powerful taste from my mouth but it's permanently printed on my tongue. I already feel light headed. I don't know why I'm surprised. Blake's enjoyment of killing. My other classmates enjoyment of killing. No one looks concerned at all. They're just waiting for me to drop dead so they can move on with the lesson. What a pathetic death. Poisoning myself.
"You can relax, Megan." Blake assures placing the solution back in its holder.
"I don't I get a few last words since I'm I-don't-know DYING!" My body is feeling warm, my stomach feeling like it's melting. My insides are liquifying. Blake's smile reappears at my distress. She signals for everyone to grab a seat. The other students look just as confused as I am. Some have a bright twinkle in their eye. Will my death really bring you that much satisfaction? Miss Blake touches my shoulder urging me to sit down with the rest of the class. "Met anyone who died from a sip of liquor?"

Anger, relieve, gratefulness. I don't know. Who tricks a person into thinking they poisoned them self. Who tells a person to drink 'poison?' Who makes this a lesson? Then again this Westfield academy. Who's the idiot who believes it's poison? Who's the idiot who drinks it? Now thinking about it it's quite embarrassing. If this was a test of loyalty I would have passed with flying colours. Taken home a medal, maybe a sash. But if it was a test of intelligence, might as well go home. I take a seat on the floor towards the back.
"What have we learned from this little exercise" Blake clasps her hands together scanning over the sea of students.
"Besides proving Megan is an idiot." Chloe comments a group of people snickering at how stupid she is or how stupid I am. Who knows.
"Yes besides that." The class goes silent. I fail to see the point of scaring me by making me think I am dying.
"Everyone here can make a poison, is that fair to say?" Everyone nods simultaneously.
"We can make a poison but is that killing someone? If you're not Megan, I'm hoping your answer is no." They're not going to let that go. Miss Blake is not going to let that go.
"Poison alone is weak and unless you're poisoning an idiot - " Not directed at anyone in particular "-your target won't take it willingly. You have to find creative ways to apprehend and ultimately eliminate your enemy." The signal for the end of the lesson sounds. "Think about it and we'll continue next lesson." We all stand and collect our things.

"Oh Megan, you mind drinking this poison for me." Troy laughs nudging Chloe to look over. They trudge past, Chloe throwing a sour look in with her mockery.
"What's that about?" Joe questions after they pass.
"It's nothing."
"That bad, huh." We take a sharp right entering the already filled room. I immediately lock eyes with Jackson and his newly changed shirt. It seems he has forgotten the whole situation but I'm not going to dare remind him. He must see us all as small fry. Rank ten. He's so close to the single digits. Once you enter the singles you are moved to a different campus and receive specialised training until graduation. The singles are on a whole different level and make up the famous assassins and evil beings of the modern time. I quickly grab the first available seat pulling Joe down with me. After a while Chloe strolls in with Troy. Thankfully the only available seats is on the other side of the room.

"Now as you all might know the second Trails are coming up." Excitement fills the room as dread accumulates in the pit of my stomach. Trails. A test of strength and ability. To people like me it's public humiliation served with a heaping of serious injuries and if really unlucky death for dessert. Every year four times a year at least five people died in one Trail. Disposing of the bodies became too bothersome so safety procedures are put in place but still at least two students lives are cut short each Trail. From the year I've been here I only won one of the five trails I participated in and that was an accident. If you're trying not to seriously hurt someone don't run with scissors or any sharp objects for that matter.

"Some serious marks are up for grabs even a moving up in rank if you really impress." Mr Marr beams rubbing his hands with excitement. Mr Marr a bulging man with a gut that hung off him like a sack of flour. If he wasn't a pernicious, cunning criminal you might refer to him as that friendly neighbour. That guy you always see trimming rose bushes or making ballon animals for children's birthdays. Where it wouldn't be weird if he invited you for a cup of tea and cake. He's that huggable care bear of an uncle but don't be deceived. This is a killing machine hiding in the skin of a loveable man.
"This will be commencing next week." Gasps escape a few people's mouths. The chatter and concerned remarks climb in volume. Swirling together in one chorus of complaints. I just blankly stare at the kids head in front of me.

A week.

"Now, now children. Quiet down!"  Everyone immediately dials down to a whisper. Saw Mr Marr get angry once.

Never. Again.

"Okay you know the drill. Names on the pieces of paper." Every time it feels like writing your name on your death certificate. We all fold the paper in half placing it in the right corner of the desk. This entire day is filled with anticipation and fear. More like my entire life. It's a endless cycle. Mr Marr makes his way between the desks collecting up the paper and placing it in a hat.
"Who you think you're going to paired up with?" Joe taps my arm. I immediately jump like she sent volts of electricity through my arm. "Does it matter?" I rush scanning over my bloodlust classmates.
"You'll be fine." Joe assures pushing her chestnut braid off her shoulder.
"You're a terrible liar."
"I know." So blunt. You can't help but appreciate her honesty though. Then again I never needed encouraging words as much as I need it now. I'm a lonesome boar in the midst of a pack of starving hyenas. The only reason I'm still here is that I managed to build a flimsy wall between us. I'm the lowest Rank in this registration class and everybody knows it. Technically I'm suppose to be registration three with people of a similar rank but again I'm unlucky. Registration one is for people with a rank of twenty- five and above. Why am I here? I don't know but to all these skilled warriors I'm a free picnic. Partner work to practice knife skills. They fight over me like dogs to a bone and not for the reasons you might think. Like Joe constantly states, I make people look good. Amateurs look like professionals placed along side me and people use that to their advantage. I don't mind. Like the entirety of my depressing life, I don't protest. I watch and I wait. They will regret all their actions soon enough. They'll come crawling back when I surpass them all. When I make it to the single digits or others wise known as the Elites. I'll get the respect I deserve. They are the idiots that will falter. It requires a little patients and a pinch of determination. They'll be talking about my story for years to come.

"Megan." Joe hisses pushing my shoulder with force. "Are you even listening?" Joe was saying something?
"Yes, I agree." I add nodding my head with understanding.
"You didn't hear what I said, did you?" Joe rolls her eyes turning her head to where Mr Marr was sorting out something on the computer.
"You nervous? Who you think you're going to get?" I ask distracting myself from the looks and points in my direction.
"I don't exactly care who I get. Whoever it is there is work going to be involved in an attempt to beat them."
"So logical. A normal response please." I push lose strands of hair out my face trying to ignore the fact that Mr Marr is almost ready to draw names.
"Oh, I'm so nervous, I don't think I can function if I'm paired with Jackson Dreads." Joe squeaks in a high pitched voice, mocking me. "How was that?" She smiles.

Everyone suddenly starts quieting down as Mr Marr stands from his desk.
"Okay I will draw two names from the hat and that is you're opponent for next week." Mr Marr informs his cheeks rosy and soft. "Weapons will be randomly generated from this computer, you guys know the drill." He flips his computer to show a bright screen with a button. "Rules. Training is done independently as no teacher is to intervene but you guys are welcome to help each other out. You may use the academy's resources but there will be no fighting before the Trial date. Understood." Mr Marr rambles the same speech every Trial. We sit in silence and listen none the less. My leg kept twitching and head felt heavy. There's a one in twenty- sixth chance I'm paired with Jackson. Although anyone I'm paired with in this entire class would be bad, he would be especially troublesome. Being paired with him is basically breaking downs deaths door and begging to be taken. I don't think anyone actually wants to be paired with him. Holds the record for the fasted brawl in Trial history. Twenty- three seconds to be exact. One sonic punch he didn't even use his weapon. Mr Marr starts with the first name. Sighs of relief and concerned faces emerge. More and more names are pulled the ones that are left getting anxious.

"Joe Wells." Joe tenses up beside me but she quickly collects herself in one breath. Mr Marr presses the button everyone watching the screen intensely. "Weapon: Spear." Joe nods at her weapon accepting it. I can tell she's already thinking of all her attacks. Battle plans and strategies. Mr Marr reaches into the hat again not wasting time in opening the paper neatly. "Opponent: Keira Matthews." Joe and Keira exchange looks but it only lasts for a second. "Weapon: Staff." Keira probably the youngest student in our registration. With a rank of nineteen you wouldn't want to mess with her. Although she is small for a sixteen year old, she is intimidating. When she first came, a year ago, she was heavily picked on for looking like a member of Girl Guides selling you a box of cookies but after some results came in and a few face disfigurations she won their respect. The academy doesn't accept much fifteen year olds but back then she must have really impressed. Not strong in force but nimble and aggressive. Still highly dangerous.

"Megan Napier." Instantly everyone turns to look at me. Instantly a weight is dropped onto my shoulders. I'm sick and there is a brick in my stomach. My leg is now visible twitching. I bite my bottom lip clasping my hands together so tight I think might be cutting off blood supply. "Weapon: Bowie knife." There are some frustrated sighs. The easiest weapon in the pool. A knife. Although this doesn't give me any relieve. The next name is about to be drawn. Again time slows. It's like a game that lags during a boss fight. Mr Marr reaches into the hat and pulls out a piece of paper. My heart pounds I'm surprised no else can hear it.

"Opponent: Chloe Allen."

And the wall came crumbling down.