o n e

Chapter 1

Understanding Isabella 

Seventeen. 

17 years of life. 

17 years of waiting. 

Waiting for this boring life to have... well 

life. 

Everyday it’s just the same damn thing. Wake-up, school, sleep. I have been doing this school thing for most of my life and I can’t say it's fun. I have but only two friends. Who are amazing! Let’s just say I’m not that popular. I’m more on the nerdy side—well if dumb nerds exist. 

I’ve been lying in bed for over an hour now and school starts in 2 hours. 

7:45 am every day. 

Which means I have two hours of exercise and coding. I’m not some workout maniac or anything, but I much prefer to be able to throw a punch if needed. And as for the coding, I work under an alias for gangs around the country. When I say gangs, I’m talking about small mafias, gangs, larger groups of law breakers and anyone that pays good. 

No one knows my real name- to them I’m Sphinx. 

Weird? I know, but I’ve always loved ancient Egypt, so I thought why not. My friends and family are not aware of my dealings with gangs. They’re under the impression that I sell malware and software support apps to small companies. 

They seem some of the money, and by them, I mean my family – family. Strange things aren’t they, generally fucked up to say the least. But sometimes they put on facades. Like mine for instance, I live with my mother, father, and my little sister. 

Cute right? ... yeah no. 

I have two older brothers, and when I say older, I mean I’m 17 turning 18 soon and they’re in their early thirties. My father was married before, so technically my brothers are only half, but I prefer not to say that he met my mother after; so, their age gap is hefty. 

My mom is fourteen years younger than my father. 

I remember being about 15 and wanting my older brothers to live with us and to fight and act like siblings do, I remember wanting a grandma who bakes chocolate chip cookies and I can share my secrets with... 

But no, I got stuck with brothers who don’t speak to me, 

Why? 

I wouldn’t know. And a grandma who is too busy playing housewife and pretending she’s still a newlywed wife with a dead-beat son and her ex-fiancé. Yes, I said ex, they are still in contact for reasons which are very unclear. 

It’s been an hour since I woke up and now, I’m exhausted, and I haven’t even been to school yet! I’ve been punching and kicking that damn punching bag. Which is in a medium sized room I built on top of my garage, it's stable and strong enough to be a small apartment, it's where I code and workout. Like I did this morning and now I’m sweaty as fu- 

Sorry for my French I meant fudgenuggets. 

6:45 am 

Ugh... I still must shower and catch a bus to school. Our bathroom, which is shared between everyone in the house, isn’t that big. It’s only a shower - which is separate from the bath – a toilet and a small basin. Although there are large mirrors on either side of the bathroom. 

Stepping into the hot shower I feel all my tense muscles relax. Personally, I don’t mind hot showers, but cold showers relax me more physically and mentally. With that I turn off the hot tap and allow ice like water to bite at my skin. The feeling unnerving yet somewhat relaxing. 

Getting out of the shower I walk to my room, in a towel. My mother wakes up at around 7:00 and my father when I leave the house, so I’m still basically alone. I still have just under an hour to get to school, considering I took a quick 5-minute shower. 

Getting dressed in the morning has never been a hassle for me. I practically wear the same thing every day. Combat boots, jeans and a hoodie or cropped hoodie when I’m feeling spontaneous. 

Which happens once a year... yay me and my tons of self-confidence! 

Can you hear that sarcasm? Yeah definitely sarcasm... 

To give you a visual of what I see in the mirror... um 

I’ve got dark brown hair that rests on my waist when straight and mid back when curly. My equally dark brown eyes matching my hair with a dark sky kind of glow when I’m happy. My skin is of a somewhat light caramel. I’m what some call short and other tall with my 5”7 height and slightly slim body I suppose. 

After combing out my wet hair and tying a quick pony, I quickly grab my bag and phone before heading out and locking the door behind. The walk to the bus stop is close to ten minutes. Leaving me enough time to try and figure out some new code on my phone since I didn’t take a break from the punching bag this morning. 

I heard about this new job that might be coming up since there’s this big heist that’s coming up soon. Nobody really knows other than the gang pulling the heist. They want to steal drugs from another gang to get even for, for what- I’m not sure. 

Tsssss 

As I arrive at the bus stop, the bus's doors swing open revealing Andy. He’s been driving me to school since I was 14 and feels more like an uncle than any of my actual blood relatives. 

“Morning Issa,” he chirps as I climb the steps, he’s always happy it’s amazing. 

“Morning Andy, how’s Kelly doing?” I smile sympathetically. 

Kelly is Andy’s wife, she’s diabetic and she’s always been fine but last week something happened. She fainted; it wasn’t extreme but at the time I’m sure it felt chilling. It sorts of shows you how things can change in a matter of seconds. 

“She’s great,” he says as I take my seat in the front- close to the window. 

“Doctor said she forgot one of her daily doses that’s all. She came home yesterday actually.” His voice lights up at the end of his sentence. 

“I’m happy to hear that, I hope everything gets better,” I say, not really knowing what to say. 

One of the best things about Andy is that he gets me, he understands when I want to talk and when I don’t. and currently I’m not really in the mood to chat, he can tell and so he just smiles in the mirror and silence ensues us for the rest of the ride.