The wind caressed my worn face sending tendrils of dark hair in front of my eyes, but I did not stop to push the captives back behind my ear where they belonged; instead I pressed forward revenge fueling each step I took. My legs were stiff, muscles screaming for the relief of short rest, but I pressed on. All pain would be relieved soon enough. It was as if the scar on my chest was burning in anticipation as I walked up the steps to find my captor waiting for me. I pushed open the large metal doors and passed into, with ease, a place that most government agents would kill to enter. There was Charles, sitting in a large leather chair made to look much older than it actually was. The room itself was mostly metallic with a dash of expensive decor here and there, including a large Chinese looking vase sitting in the corner screaming the fact that Charles had more money than you could imagine. The sweet fragrance of the room was familiar, turning my stomach into knots as memories of the past flooded my mind. On the large desk at which Charles sat there was a small old style radio playing what seemed to be a news report in a language I did not understand.
Charles smiled at me from behind his over-sized desk. This action sent more white hot furry up my spine making my head spin with anger as my scar cried for revenge. My hand twitched aching to reach for the gun strapped to my thigh, but the moment wasn’t right. A gun shot would kill Charles and I didn’t want him dead, I wanted him in pain. I needed him to feel the utter hopelessness he made me feel for nine years. Daggers seemed to be tearing into my back as I fought every instinct in my body. “Krissy, my baby,” Words oozed from his mouth like slime and covered me, smooth and sickening, “I just knew you couldn’t keep away. The day you left I told Harold over here that you’d be back,” I looked to the corner behind me to discover we were not alone as I had thought, “and you didn’t disappoint; but then again you always were a people pleaser, weren’t you sweetheart?” Every word hit me like a cinderblock. One thousand pounds of weight and meaning in every sentence.
“Don’t call me sweetheart.” My lips barely moved over gritted teeth and I held my ground for the first time in my life. Charles had taught me everything I knew about killing and I hoped the irony of that would wash over him as I slowly ended his life. Now I stared straight into the eyes of the man who had robbed me of my childhood and given me my first gunshot wound at the age of fourteen. A fire had caught in my eyes and I smoldered, letting him feel his demise approaching. A sound from behind me broke the connection. I turned to see Harold taking a step towards me, reaching for his gun. Before his weapon was out of its holster I had reached for the small knife hidden between my breasts and flung it to find its new home deep in Harold’s thick neck. The large man brought a hand up instinctively to inspect the damage as he fell to his knees, shock and dismay written all over his face. Without thinking he pulled out the knife opening a wound and releasing a downpour of blood. Rookie mistake, but sometimes your training goes out the window when you’re dying. He landed on the cold concrete floor with a thud and I turned to find Charles standing behind his desk. A brief second of terror flashed across his face, soon covered with a mask consisting of cool, calm, and collected. He forced a chuckle at the death of his right hand man. “I press one button and a hundred more men just like him are here in an instant and unfortunately for you that button has already been pressed.”
This time I was the one laughing. “Charlie, sorry to disappoint but no one is coming. If there was one thing I learned while working for you it was to be thorough. I listened well, people pleaser remember?” His face sank, the bravado from moments prior was gone, never to be seen again.
“Krissy, think about what you’re doing. Let’s not do anything we’re going to regret here.”
“Don’t you think it’s a little late for that?” I felt my voice rising without my permission. “You ruined my life! You kept me captive for nine years! You took my soul from me. I’m just here to get it back.” My hand was now gripping my gun for dear life. I needed something real to hold onto to or I might just fly away.
“Captive? Listen here girl, I made you. I took some snotty, little, piece of shit orphan and turned her into a worth-while member of a group that will change the world. I made you a part of history. The training you have is worth millions! Hell, you should be thanking me!”
“You made a ten year old girl a killing machine. You brainwashed me into thinking I was doing something good for this country when all I was doing was the bidding of a terrorist.” My voice was firm and strong as I stepped toward Charles, but before I could respond any further he pulled a shiny silver gun from underneath his desk. The weapon fired, hitting me in the chest and sending me to the floor. His rushed footsteps were almost drowned out by the unsettling noise of my lungs gasping for air.
“You see babe, if you were so upset you should have stayed out. I mean, why come back? Really? You got this awesome new hairdo, I’m digging the black by the way, and you’re just pretty as a picture. You could have done anything, but you chose to come back because deep down in your heart of hearts you know you would be nothing without me. “
My focus on breathing was lost as I looked up to see Charles smirking as he approached. “You’re right,” I whispered “I would be nothing. After all you’re the one who taught me to always wear a bulletproof vest.” I stood and in one swift movement grabbed my gun and shot him in the thigh. My abuser fell to the ground and I kicked the gun from his hand. Screams of pain filled the air, primal and satisfying. Chills ran up my spine to my face, where my true emotion began to show. I couldn’t keep the smile from creeping up either side of my face. I stared at him, now seeing every wrinkle and scar that I had previously missed. His blue eyes begged me for mercy as I stood over the most wanted man in the world, a man I called papa for many years, a man that changed my life almost a decade ago. I expected pity, but I felt none. My soul really was gone. He whimpered and I grinned as I pulled a large knife from its place in my boot. “You taught me everything I know, I wouldn’t think you’d be so surprised.”