Page 20 of Taking Me

I only killed one person out of complete cruelty, and that was when I was with Ghost. I couldn’t help it. I saw it as a fucked up romantic gesture of some sort and was just living in the moment.

Marklov places me beside the woman, whimpering out through the cloth that is covering her head. One of his guards steps closer, offering me to take a black bag with something in it.

I look up at Marklov, standing next to me, nodding his head and telling me to take it.

Pulling open the velcro strap, I see a very familiar piece. It’s my bayonet. There is no way in hell he will trust me to have this in my possession.

Marklov leans in close to my ear.

“Take it, Little Sinister. I know you, and I know what you crave. Don’t test me, or the one you think you have come to love will be eating a bullet for his last meal.” He let out a deep chuckle.

Did he just confirm that Ghost is alive? Or is he just playing mind games with me?

My hands tremble as I pull out my knife. It’s so clean that I can see my reflection on it. The weight of it is all too familiar. Not because it is heavy but because of the memories I share with it.

The words he spoke in my ear gave me hope. If Ghost is still alive, he will be my best chance at getting out of here.

Until then, I will continue to play my part.

“You will take this woman’s life tonight, no questions asked.” He said out loud enough for everyone in the room to hear.

I’ve never had an audience before, and in this situation, it’s better her than me. I know that sounds selfish, but it’s the truth. The thought of being in her position fucks with my gut, and I can’t help but feel a sense of relief that it’s not me up there.

I mean, either way, this woman will probably be killed, and lucky for her, I know the quickest way to end her misery. I have been trained and disciplined for situations like this. Unfortunately for others, I had to do some unforgivable things during my deployment. You pick up a thing… or ten.

I place my hand on the cloth covering her head and slowly remove it. She looks up at me with tears streaming down her face and fear in her eyes. Her ordinary features trigger a vague familiarity that I can’t quite place. A part of me yearns for the violence, but another part of me resists, refusing to give Marklov the satisfaction of seeing me obey his order.

I take a deep breath. I have ended lives more times than I can count on both hands. Killing her shouldn’t be any different. But it is. I feel…bad for her.

I move towards her, my knife glinting in the light above us, my hand gently resting on her head. If she is to die tonight, it will be by my hand. I can ensure it is quick and as painless as possible. She quickens her struggles against the bonds, but it’sfutile. I am too strong and too skilled. The sadness in her eyes mirrors the sorrow in my heart, knowing this is the best way.

I grab a handful of her hair and pull her head back, exposing her tear-soaked skin that glistens from all the crying. Her face is wet and flushed, showing how much she’s been through. The light catches on her tear-streaked cheeks, making the scene feel even more intense and raw.

I place the blade against her throat, feeling the warmth of her skin against the cold metal.

“Shh…Shh…Shh, this will all be over in a blink of an eye.” I say- a small attempt to comfort her before her fate is sealed.

I feel a spark of enjoyment rises inside of me. My adrenaline is flooding through my veins, but I keep a straight face. I look over to Marklov, and his face is filled with satisfaction. It is enough to piss me off.

I turn back to the woman who is slowly giving up and accepting what will happen next, and I do it. I quickly run my blade across her throat and instantly feel her warm blood spill out, covering my hands, arms, and feet. She convulses once…twice… and she’s completely still.

I let go of her head, and a sickening thud hits the ground. I tower over her, looking at what I had just done. I feel almost like myself again—the pity for her vanishes.

Those feelings of being myself get cut short by a singular applause next to me. Marklov. I look up at him, our eyes locked. I just fed more into his trap. I just murdered someone not just for his own satisfaction but mine, too. It pisses me off to think I am anything similar to him.

“Bravo, Little Sinister, you did perfect mi amor.” He let out in a congratulatory voice.

I flared my nostrils at him, and he took a step forward.

“The knife, please.” He holds out his hand, giving a silent command.

I stand there momentarily in thought. I could easily kill him next. Would his men shoot me? What would be their reason to do so? Theirbosswould be dead. They would be free. But who would cut them a paycheck?

My thoughts teetered back and forth for a moment longer. I return my knife to Marklov, and his men accept defeat for now.

Everyone chatters among themselves like this is a common thing around here. And with Marklov, I have no doubt in my mind that it is.

“Alright, let’s get you cleaned up, Little Sinister,” he said gently as he places his hand on my lower back with a light touch.

---