I wake up screaming.

I looked around at the horrifying scene around me.

Blood. My blood. The same black walls.

It hits me again, and I scream.

I've endured my whole childhood like this, my father was an evil villain who wants to take over the world, and was turning me into... a tool.

My long, jet-black hair strayed into my dark blue eyes, and I squeezed them shut.

The pain hit again.

Again.

Again.

Then it finally stopped, I slumped to the floor, exhausted, but not panting.

I haven't run out of breath in a long time, they had it trained out of me.

I hear a clatter in the echoey black walls, and force myself to stand up and open my eyes.

There are daggers on the floor, and a man in the room. He had a large broadsword, and was indictating to the daggers.

I picked them up, and he attacked me with a roar.

I rolled out of the way, and pivoted his broadsword out of the way.

He snarled at me, "You stupid child! You learn to fight, not dodge!"

He attacked me again, and I pivoted his broadsword and snapped my wrist sharply, making the sword fling from his grasp.

He smirked at me, his black cloak billowing around him as he swung my feet out from under me.

My head hit the ground and I fell unconscious.

I have to get out of here.

Before they make me, the 'tool', do something that changes the tide of the war.

They can't win.

I slip one of the daggers into my boot before the older man could see, and I set down the other dagger.

"Good girl." He hissed as he picked up the dagger, putting it into his vest.

He turned around, walked a few steps to the door, then he sneered at me, "You did a good thing today, Enola."

Wait... what?

"You're gonna have your first mission soon, girl." He continued, "And you can't fail."

"Understand?" He demanded, stepping closer to me threateningly.

I nod several times with wide eyes.

I have to leave sooner rather than later.

I can't help them.

Ever