Page 43 of Assistant to the Assassin

“There’s nothing to talk about,” he insists, his expression angry. He looks downright pissed, and while I know it has nothing to do with me, he’s still directing it at me, and that’s not right.

“Bullshit,” I reply, marching up to him until our bodies are almost touching, but not quite. He has to look down to meet my gaze, and he seems more aggravated now than he was before. “A group of killers is coming for us and what are you doing? Sulking and fussing like a toddler. You were the one that said my training should be our number one priority, but I’ve been here all day while you’ve been locked up in your room. Whatever is bothering you is compromising both of our safety, not to mention putting a strain on our partnership. So, spill it.”

Henry looks taken aback by my outburst, but I’m pretty pissed myself. Henry has never been wishy-washy in the past, nor has he ever been so consumed by his emotions that he neglected his work. I’ve seen him have panic attacks dozens of times, but after getting some rest and unwinding, he’s fine. But it looks like he hasn’t come down from that place whatsoever. He’s still in fight-or-flight panic mode. He was the one who convinced me that I needed training in case one of the mercs got to me, and he’s leaving me alone to figure it out myself, which is absolute bullshit.

“I just realized that even spending late afternoons and nights away from training is putting you behind. I talked to Ian this morning and he’s spotted some of Harrison’s teammates talking to people around the airport in Haiti.”

My eyes widen at that. “He’s sure?”

He gives me a single nod. “He sent me pictures and I was able to scan them. They’re with Harrison. Which is why we don’t have time to fuck off and watch Downton Abbey. From when we wake to when we sleep should be dedicated to training you.”

“Making us both work until we’re exhausted won’t make me any more ready than I am now. You can’t turn me into an assassin in a week,” I argue, hoping logic will break through this mental hole he’s trapped in.

“No, but we can make you more prepared than you are now,” he replies.

I feel like I’m yelling at a wall! “H, I’m going to be in a concrete bunker twenty feet below the ground behind metal doors only accessible by face scan, that happens to be equipped with ammunition. Why are you so convinced that something will happen to me? Unless a nuclear bomb hits the island, I will be fine, and even then, I’d have a better chance at living than you would.”

“That’s not the point,” he argues, his tone clipped.

“Then what is?” I shout, my frustration reaching a breaking point. My throat feels thick and raw, like I’m going to cry, but I pray that’s not about to happen. That would be so embarrassing. I haven’t been this frustrated since I was a kid, and right now tears prickle my eyes.

“What happened to your mother?” I ask, and you’d think I had slapped him. He flinches away from me, his own eyes lining with tears. “What happened that makes you so certain that I’ll meet her fate?”

I watch a tear streak down his cheek, and I want more than anything to wipe it away, but I force myself to stay put. “She died because I failed her,” Henry whispers, reconnecting his angry gaze to mine. “She died because I wasn’t strong enough or capable enough to protect her. I refuse to make that mistake again. If I can’t be enough, then you have to be.”

Oh Henry.

“You didn’t fail your mom, H,” I whisper, taking a step towards him, but he steps backwards, shaking his head.

“And how would you know that?” he snaps, venom dripping from each word. He’s like a snake backed into a corner, unable to find a way of escape.

“Because I know you, Henry. Whatever happened, I know you did everything you could to protect her,” I insist.

“No, I didn’t. I was a good little soldier and followed all the rules even when it went against my better judgement and she was killed because of it,” he snarls, banging his fist into the wall behind him. It’s concrete, but you’d think it was foam from how hard he hit it and was able to shake it off.

“What happened, Henry? Please.” I reach out my hand towards him, but he just shakes his head again. “What are you so afraid of?”

“I’m afraid that I won’t be able to protect you,” he tells me, abandoning his plan of putting as much distance between us as possible, and instead walking me backwards to the opposite wall, where he then cages my body in with his hands. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to watch the person I love most in this world die for the second time in my life. I’m afraid of being with you only to lose you to either death or the inevitable resentment you’ll feel towards me if you ever find out the truth. I’m fucking afraid of everything when it comes to you, Beth, and I have been since we met. I should’ve left you alone—that way you would be safe—but I’m a selfish prick and I pulled you into this shitstorm because I physically can’t go a day without you!”

At this point, he and I are both crying, and when I slowly cup his cheek with my hand, he doesn’t pull away or flinch. He lets me wipe his wet cheek. He lets me comfort him.

“Why can’t you tell me what happened?” I press my forehead to his, feeling his body begin to shake.

“I can’t,” he whispers. “I just can’t.”

He tears himself away from me and storms out of the gym, leaving me to lean against the wall for support as all the emotions from today crash over me. All of the frustration, worry, and sympathy hit their peak, and I don’t hold back the tears any longer. I let them flow freely.

Journal Entry 191

I can’t count how many times I have prayed to God and asked what I did to deserve such a life. If God is truly all-knowing, then perhaps he foresaw what kind of man I would become. He saw I had a heart of violence and death, so he punished me before I ever took the life of another. If that’s the case, then his preemptive punishment was the cause for the demons in my heart and mind to take root. But if he’s all-knowing and forgiving, how could he have not seen how his actions would affect me?

Maybe it’s because history repeats itself, and if that’s true, then I’m destined to feel this pain forever, and I’m destined to lose whatever love I manage to capture.

Dr. Bennett said to feel, and for the first time I do. I feel helpless, I feel alone, I feel angry, and I feel pain. I feel a pain unlike any physical injury I have ever experienced, and I’ve felt it every day of my life since I was a boy. I was able to ignore it for a while, but it was always there, like an anvil hanging over my head in a Looney Tunes cartoon.

I fail to see how swimming in this feeling will help me. I feel like I’m drowning. Maybe I have to feel this way before it gets better, and if so, that’s fucking bullshit. I wish there was a switch I could flip, or a way I could take my brain out of my body for a few moments to get a reprieve. But even then, I don’t think any sense of peace would come, because as soon as I manage to swim up towards the surface, another wave is going to pull me back under, and then I’ll drown for real.

History repeats itself. I failed to save my mother, and I’m going to fail to save Beth.

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