Jessy
Legacy Name: Jessy

Full Name: Jessy Naomi Xavier
Nicknames: Jess, Xavier, Secret Agent Xavier, Secret Agent Jess
Age: 19
Birthday: March 14th
Orientation: Straight
Relationship Status: Dating
Likes: Being A Secret Agent, Spying, Catching Criminals, Storing Data In Here "File Cabinet", Reading
Dislikes: Corners, Empty Rooms, Large Men, Chairs, Criminals, Carnivals, Bratty Children, People Who Think They Are Better Than Everyone Else
Blood Type: O+
Parents Names: Harold Davis Conrad Alexander Xavier III, Gwendolyn Julianna Gertrude Martinsen-Xavier
Siblings Names: Todd Harris, Harold Davis Conrad Alexander IV, Andrew Michael, Mitchell Robert Liam

The corner. It is a very cold place to be. A place away from everyone. Away from all of the action. But the corner. But the corner is the only place I that I can be. It is dark. It is cold. But it is safe. Safe. Safe from them. Those agents over there in that room. The agents that call themselves "Part of the F.B.I". I don't want them to find me. Then everything will be ruined. Me. My secret agent group. The world. Everything will be ruined if they find me. So I won't let them find me. I won't let them. I won't.

This corner. The cold, dark, safe corner that I am standing in now. It is the only place in which they cannot see from their positions in the room. That is why I am hiding here. But I can't hide here forever. Someone will find me eventually. I have to move. But not until the time is right. I've been quiet for the past two hours. That being the length of their meeting so far. I know what they are planning. I'm hearing everything. They're whole entire plan being unraveled to me. And of course I am doing an excellent job of keeping their conversations stored in my brain. Every word. Every single word has been filed. Saved. Remembered. But if they knew. But if they knew that I know, there'd not be any more of me left. None of my mind. None of my personality. None of my words, thoughts, actions. They'd all be gone. Erased from existence.

The thing. The thing they are planning. This event that they are planning is so top secret. So top secret that I cannot speak it out to you. So secret that I have to keep it built up inside of my file cabinet until the right time comes. The right time that I know I am safe, The right time that I know it is safe. I can tell you this though. I can tell you that this event they are planning. It is highly deadly. HIGHLY deadly.

The meeting ended suddenly. So suddenly. Too sudden to the point that I was not able to act. Not able to move. Not able to think. They all started filing out of the room. There had to be ten. fifteen, twenty-one. of them. Twenty-one people that all knew I was here. In this corner. This cold, dark, safe corner, that was no longer safe. I found out that they knew I was here when one of them. One of the largest, strongest men of the entire group picked me up uninvitedly.

I am in a room. Locked in a room. They all know I am here. All of them. They don't care. They want me to rot in here. They want me to rot right here in this room. That would save them the job. That would save them the job of killing me. Of my blood being unnecessarily spread onto the floor, painted on the walls. Forever being a reminder of what was Jessy. What was Secret Agent Jessy Xavier. I know they aren't going to kill me. None of them have the guts to kill me. I will just be held prisoner in this room. Tortured in this room.

They rarely come into this room. They don't want me to escape. Escape from this chair bolted to the floor, in which I have my arms and legs conveniently tied around. I can't escape. No matter how much I want to. No matter how much I try to I can't escape. I entertain myself. I entertain myself by thinking. Think about what happened. What will happen. How this even happened.

They knew I was in that corner all along. Didn't they? DIDN'T THEY? They were planning on it. On keeping me prisoner here. On torturing me here. On letting me rot here. They planned it. They planned it. I know they planned it. Or maybe it's just my mind talking. Have I gone crazy? No. I have not gone crazy. It's just the room. It's just the room that's talking. This room could make anyone go crazy. It could make anyone go crazy.

The door swings open. I cringe from the sound of the door hinge. The squeaky ass door hinge that never gets opened. I have forgotten what it sounds like. Though, I consider that a good thing. A man. A man walks into my room. My room. He looks familiar. I have seen him before. I have seen that face. That hair. Those eyes. I have seen them all before. The man that is staring at me right now is the man that put me in this hell hole. The man that never lets me eat. Drink. And makes me pee on myself. I hate this man. Out of anyone else in this building, this is the man I hate the most.

The man lunges at me. Swiftly and suddenly I feel my face start to bleed from where the punch was thrown. He continues. The same spot on my face is punched again. Again. Again. Again. My face is broken. I never knew a whole face could be broken. But mine is. The man stares at me. The happiness in his eyes cuts through me. As if he were send knives into my body to cut me open. As if he were letting all of the blood drain out of me and leak onto the floor. As if he was killing me. Right now, I wish he was. I know he isn't going to kill me. He'd get much more joy out of watching my face get painted red from my dry blood. On his way out of the room he steps on my toe. The pain is excruciating. Whether he meant to or not. He broke my toe. And I can't do anything about it. I can't move my foot to a more comfortable position. I can't. I'm not allowed to. At least that is what the ropes on my legs tell me.

So now I must sit here. Sit here drinking my own blood. The blood that drips from my face. I must sit here. Sit here with a broken toe, placed in an uncomfortable position. I must sit here. Alone.I wonder if anyone knows I am here. If anyone who cares about me is missing me. If anyone noticed that I have been gone past the time I should have been. I wonder.

I am floating. Through clouds, Through the air. Bathing in the light rays that the sun gives off. I am in heaven. I can hear the angels sing my name as I come closer to them. I float. I float. I float closer to the angels that are singing my name. I get closer. The angels. They turn into devils. Fire shoots from the sockets that are supposed to be filled up with eye balls. I hear screaming. The singing of my name turns into the screaming of my name. The bloodcurdling scream of my name. I try. I try to float away. Away from the heaven that has turned into hell. Away from the devil, that I want so bad to be an angel. But I can't. I can't float away from it. No matter how hard I try, I get pulled in. Into the hell that I don't want to be in. The face of the devil. It turns into the face of the man. It turns into the face of the man I hate. He is pulling me. Pulling me into his world. He wants me to embrace his world. To go into his world with open arms. I can't. I just can't.

I awake from the sleep I didn't know I was in. It was just a dream I tell myself. The first of many, I predict. I want to be back home. Waking up in my bed, on a mattress that conforms to the shape of my body. Instead I am here. Sleeping on a chair that doesn't conform to the shape of anything.

I hear the squeak. The squeak of the door hinge. I wish it would go away. I don't want to hear it. I don't. I don't. I turn my head to see a new man. A much shorter, much less muscular man. He doesn't look dangerous. The door slams. Something that the men usually don't do.

"Jessy" I hear the man whisper. Though I try to ignore him.
"Jess. It's me Slam." I look over at the man again. Confused.

"SLAM?!? What are you doing here?" I ask him.

"I've been here. The entire time. The meeting. Your kidnapping. Everything. I waited until the men left for the weekend to come in here to save you." Slam said to me.

"Quick. Get me out of here. Please!" I ordered.

Slam untied me from the ropes, and picked me up. He threw me over his shoulder since I was unable to walk. And, surprisingly enough. We walked out. We walked out of the building without anyone capturing us. They really had left for the weekend.

We announced it on the news, There plan. It was out in the open. Everyone now knew. We felt good. We had stopped nineteen men from taking over the world. From killing us all with the press of a button. The F.B.I agents, who were secretly undercover cops who had all been fired for drinking on duty, had started a group, planning to send the earth hurtling directly into the sun. I don't know how they planned on doing it. But they knew they were going to achieve success. Except, I had interfered. Those 19 "F.B.I Agents" are now held in contempt in the Washington D.C Federal Prison on a death sentence.

That would be a wonderful thing except for the fact that there were twenty men planning the event. One had gotten away. One had gotten away. That one, is the one that I hate. The one that gave me a broken face. (And toe). The one that knew exactly how the plan was going to be carried through...