I gripped the edges of the sink, leaning over it and trying to steady myself. I looked up into a dirty mirror and saw myself reflected. I looked like crap. My dark eyes were underlined with equally dark shadows and had lost any sign of emotion. My hair hung limply in its ponytail.
“One last time,” I whispered to myself. One. Last. Time. I bent over my purse and pulled two daggers out. My chances were slim, but I wouldn’t let that stop me. It’s kill or be killed. And I wasn’t ready to die just yet.
I was in a mostly empty abandoned gas station. It was a dimly lit room, but I spotted him immediately. He was in a dark corner, trying to hide in the shadows. He grabbed his walkie-talkie and said something before taking a step toward me. The doors opened and at least a dozen goons came in.
“Grab her.”
They rushed toward me, and soon I was surrounded. I narrowed my eyes and clenched my fists tighter around the hilts of my daggers.
“Do not challenge me,” I growled, turning in a slow circle. Someone laughed, which only served to make me angrier. He, no they, had done this to me. They had forced me to be this way. I had to get revenge, however fleeting.
Five minutes and 14 corpses later, there were two people left in the room. I wiped the blood from my cheek and pulled one of my daggers from where it was sheathed in someone’s chest. I tried not to look at the body’s face.
His eyes followed me as I came closer. He didn’t even flinch as I pressed the blade to his throat.
“Well. Your skills have improved since you last tried to kill something. Guess you got some guts while you were gone.”
“I’ve been training.”
“Ah. Then you might succeed this time.”
“I will.”
He smirked and grabbed the handle, his hand curling around mine. I gasped and he pulled the dagger harder against his throat, drawing blood.
“Do it. I dare you.”
I hesitated, looking into his eyes. I searched in them for the man I once loved. For the man who told me he loved me.
He just laughed and pried the dagger from my frozen hand. “I knew you couldn’t do it. I knew you weren’t really one of us,” He whispered and I stumbled back.
I finally let myself realize he had been lying the whole time. He had never loved me. He just wanted to use me. A single tear trailed down my face, betraying me. He wiped it away and smiled at me. A kind, warm smile. I almost believed he would forgive me. I almost believed that he still loved me. Then something wicked flickered in his eyes and he stabbed me.
I fell to my knees, holding the handle sticking out of my stomach. I looked up at him, full of disbelief. His eerie pink and gold eyes were full of glee.
“Are you gonna want this back?” I asked, then fell into a fit of giggles, laying on the floor. My mouth felt dry and my tongue wouldn’t work right.
“How pathetic.”
I raised my head slightly at the sound of his voice.
“Brought down by a minor stab wound and a little poison. Your namesake, no less. You truly are weak.”
I mustered up all my strength and stood up. I looked him straight in his eyes. “You’re the weak one, Oleander.” I spit his name out as if it burned me. Then I collapsed.
“Oh, Belladonna.” He looked down at me, his frightening eyes filled with pity and disappointment. “Such a waste of talent.”
There was a sharp pain at the back of my head. I thought I could hear someone calling my name. He lifted my head so he could watch the life leave my eyes. I was suddenly struck with disappointment realizing that the sight of Oleander grinning would be the last thing I ever see.

I was transported back to the last time I saw the real Oleander. We were about 12 years old. This was a week before we were to get our names and changes. His eyes were still a deep brown and we laughed regularly. I was 36742. He was 93681. I had just beaten him at another round of sparring. We were exhausted and sweaty, but at the same time, we were having so much fun.
“Rematch?” He asked, panting.
I laughed. “Why? There’s no way you can beat me!” I flexed my biceps.
He suddenly lost his smile. “There’s only a week left. If I don’t make it…”
“Hey. Don’t think like that. You will be perfect. You’ve been training for this your whole life. And you’re the best fighter I know, besides me, of course.”
He smiled. “I would still feel better if we could practice one more time.”

I was suddenly brought to another time. This time we were 15. We had gone through many changes since then. His irises were light pink now, and he had elongated canines. We had gained names and purposes.
There were things we had to do. Things I was reluctant to but didn’t seem to bother Oleander much. With each meal, we had to take small doses of the poisons after which we were named. We used real weapons when training and were supposed to aim to cause pain. The leaders were much harder on us. Oleander had gotten much better at sparring and now beat me every time. I was often covered in bruises and scratches.
Then I believed that he was still my Oleander.

Two years later. We had become closer over the years if that’s possible. We were dating. I was in love with him. I thought he loved me too.
We had almost completed our training. Oleander had become the best of us all. He had changed, slowly, but drastically. Become more ruthless, cunning, and ambitious. He wanted to be in charge. He did everything the leaders told him. I blinded myself to what he was becoming, choosing instead to believe that he was still the same sweet boy. I somehow missed the look in his eyes, the force behind every smile and laugh. I failed to notice the lies, the malicious intent behind every movement.

Three months ago. It was the day of my 19th birthday. The day I was supposed to complete my first assignment. Oleander had turned 19 four weeks before and was to accompany me. I spent all day preparing for twilight when we would receive the orders. When the time did come, I couldn’t decide whether I was dreading it or ecstatic.
I met Oleander at the door, which was the only way in or out. He had a scroll in one hand and a duffel bag in the other.
“What’s the mission?” I asked him, peeking at the scroll.
“Hey! You can’t see until we get outside! It’s tradition!” He shoved the scroll into his pocket.
“Ugh. Fine, whatever. Can we hurry up and go then?” I took a step toward the door.
He stopped me and put his hands on my shoulders. Looking deep into my unnaturally purple eyes, he asked, “Are you sure you are ready for this? Ready to put yourself 100% into this?”
I stopped and thought for a second. I had already dedicated my whole life to this. It’s not like I had a choice anyway. I had to do this. That’s what the leaders say. No one who goes against them gets out alive. They made sure we knew that from a young age.
“Yes,” I whispered. I cleared my throat. “I mean, of course. I’m ready.”
It didn’t look like he believed me, but he still released me. “Let’s go then.” He opened the door and we stepped into the world.
We raced silently through the night. Reaching the edge of a town, Oleander pointed to a small house. I nodded. We crept closer and slipped in an open window.
He directed me to a room in the back, where a young child was sleeping, then left me. I carefully picked up the kid and brought him to the center room of the house. I heard a strange noise from somewhere else in the house. I set the child on a couch and went to check on Oleander.
The door to the room he was in was cracked slightly, so I pushed it open a bit. Inside I found Oleander holding a bloodstained knife, standing over a whimpering woman. He had backed her into a corner. There was a body on the bed. In a sudden flash, the woman fell to the ground and blood splattered the wall behind her. There was a muffled squeak from behind me.
I turned to see the child awake and crying. Oleander was there in a moment, wiping off his blade. In another flash, he struck out and in one blow the child was dead. I froze. Oleander turned to me. I looked in his eyes and saw no remorse.
I backed up, hitting a wall. “Wh-why did you do that? I thought we were just retrieving the child.”
He stepped toward me. “Bella, the kid saw. You know what happens to witnesses. And we couldn’t leave the parents alive, they would look for their kid.” He spoke cooly and calmly as if he hadn’t just murdered three people. A child, who had been 4 years old at most.
It was then I realized what kind of person Oleander had become. I was numb and started acting purely on instinct. I slowly lifted my shirt in the back and pulled out a dagger. I quickly moved and put Oleander in my spot against the wall, with my knife at his throat. I hardly noticed the tears streaming down my face.
“Oleander. Tell me that I’m dreaming. This has to be a nightmare! You-You just killed a child. I-I helped to murder three people!” I broke down, falling to the floor, sobbing.
Oleander straightened up, fixing his clothes. “Pull yourself together. You look pathetic.” I turned my head to look at him.
“Honestly woman, you could at least wait to become a blubbering mess until you were in private,” He scoffed.
“Oleander?” I whimpered.
“Though I am glad that you showed this much weakness. Now I can finally prove to the leaders that I am better than you. They never believed me before, but I have irrefutable evidence this time. They can’t refuse my request to become a leader now.”
“Wha-what do you mean?”
“Did you honestly think I kept hanging around you because I liked you?”
“I-I thought… I thought you loved me!”
He laughed. “Loved you? I loved using you. That’s all.”
I stood up, angrier than I had ever been. Straightening, I looked Oleander in the eyes. He was smirking, I wanted to...to... I wanted him to tell me it was all a joke. A nightmare. I wanted to wake up safe in my bed, and laugh about it with Oleander.
But… This is real life. And in real life there is pain. Oleander taught me that in more ways than one. That night, as I ran away, I promised myself that I would get revenge. That I wouldn’t let him beat me. But I failed, and I won’t get any second chances this time.