Chapter 10

Still Wednesday

I open my eyes, and it's dark. I fell asleep. It's later, and my first thoughts are about getting free. I try to move my arms and legs together to get the cuff past, lying on my side. My left foot goes, then the right, shoulders cracking, and my arms are in front of me. My shoulders burn, aching as I set up. I wipe my nose and face clean with my shirt.

In the darkness, I stop when I see a figure setting across the cell from me to my left. The blonde sets on a metal chair next to the door. 

In between shadows, I see her eyes on me. I set without speaking. There is a moment of silence, both of us taking each other in.

I see her face. I see her face! In the greys and blacks of the cell. Her features stand out, as my eyes try to see every detail of her stoic face. She looks familiar, but from where I can't place. Ageless. Maybe late 30's, but no way is she past 40.

Healthy. Her skin is clear. Feminine. Beautiful even. 

Her eyes are a different story. They look older, worn out. Like they've seen a life she never wanted.

Next to her is a brown paper sack. In her right hand I see the stun gun, her eyes look down to it, then back to me with a flare of fire. 

We both stare each other down, without speaking. Her eyes stand out in the dark. They never leave mine. 

I just stare into her beautiful face, wondering what will she say. Wondering why am I here. 

Her face smiles slightly, and I see her eyes look to my side, then back to me. Slightly confused, I look down. A pack of cigarettes and lighter set next to me.

I look back to her. She knows. 

She knows what I did. Her being here is her way of a thank you, whatever she has for me. 

"Go ahead." She speaks with softness.

Hearing that soft voice, strikes me. Her real voice. Her defenseless voice. 

My left eye waters and I move to wipe it away.

"It's just cigarettes." She quips.

There it is again, that soft warmth. I smile to myself.

"It's not that. It's you. The you, I wanted."

She shakes her head, confused.

"You don't feel that? The you-you, not the act. It's the voice. I can...tell."

She doesn't respond.

"Whatever this is...it's the you, the real you. Not the agent, the dominatrix."

It's quiet in the cell, and I break the awkwardness by fetching a cigarette, and light it. The first drag takes me away from the moment, and I'm hit with chemicals my body is used to. The rush to my head and instant buzz is dizzying. 

"Why didn't you say? What you did for her."

I wait a moment, taking another drag. The cigarette gently lights my face, and I exhale towards the window.

"It wouldn't have mattered in that moment. I saw it in your face."

She waits, then responds, "You saved her life."

I nod and wait for some kind of insult.

"You don't think I would have...what?"

"You wouldn't have cared in that moment."

She doesn't respond immediately, letting my words settle.

"So, what do you want?"

"What do you mean?" I ask.

"You did something that deserves rewarding; you saved someone I care deeply about, so name your price."

I wait, already knowing my response, and the shutdown I'm going to receive, but the wait prevents it from happening with each passing second. 

"You already know, so just say it."

"I want to know everything."

"Wow."

"Your story. Your first crush. Your high school mascot. Where you lost your virginity."

"Seriously, we've been over this."

"I don't care!" I scream, while setting passively. "You steal me from my life, without a fucking care in the world. You taunt me. Torture me! You mock me! You lock me away! All for what!? For a game, for your masters!? All my life, I've just wanted the honest, hard to deal with truth. And exposing corruption. Exposing the liars that try to distract and divide us! And you, you fucking tool! You, just do as your told, without resisting!?"

"You don't know-"

"You fucking tell me why!"

My anger and the fact that I'm setting passively, screaming my heart at her, has her taken back.

"Tell me why the most beautiful woman, I've ever laid eyes on, is just a fucking puppet!"

She's shocked silent. Good. My words can do as much pain as their bondage. I'm still good for something.

She takes in my words and digests them a moment before her eyes narrow, and she's deliberating her response.

"Puppet-agent-contractor, maintenance man, we all answer to someone. This, was just a field, I fell into. Just like you. I never said when I was a little girl, I wanted to be...well, whatever it is that I am. Life happens, and it takes from you, pieces of the true you. So, you adapt, evolve, and harden into something that can withstand that pain. Then it happens again, and again, and again. That's life. You make choices based off the past. This was my choice. Do I regret it? How many times a day do you regret the choices you've made, that led to your career?"

She motions with a hand gesture for a cigarette, and I toss her the pack, then the lighter.

"...We all do."

She lights, exhaling out the side of her mouth. Her hand, gingerly holding the smoking glowing stick in the darkness close to her face.

"Do you...regret, this? Me?"

She smiles, her eyes genuine, "No."

We set in moments of quietness, before exchanges, gathering our next round of questions, next round of responses. Like boxers in a prize fight. 

"Have you ever loved a man before? Not like, family, but serious feelings, a relationship?"

"Yes."

"Do you care...about me?"

Long pause.

"Yes."

"Were you supposed to kill me?"

"Yes."

No pause.

That one strikes me, and I have to ask for the smokes back for another round. She tosses them, taking a couple before.

I light another one, and wait for my vision to return to where I can see her. 

"What stopped you?"

"Who said were not going to?"

"What's stopping you?"

She snorts a silent laugh to herself before responding, "I don't know. I honestly don't know, why, I would risk our lives for yours. Something...about you...like..."

She pauses and I wait for the "you feel like my brother line".

"...in a different life...who knows. I just, I can't explain it...Like I know I could never, actually pull the trigger. You could piss me off, and I could beat the ever living shit out of you, no problem. But to, actually, end you? Something...something would be wrong in the cosmos. Or something."

Did she just imply what I think she did?

"You, you are just so...you. You're defiant, and stubborn, and smart, and...everything a hostage isn't. You're...not scared of dying, of being forgotten. It's like, you're impervious. This was supposed to be about blackmail, and ruining you. And you've fought against everything without raising a fist. You're not a typical man...and something...draws me to it."

"How many of these, have you done?"

She snorts out of her nose, and shakes her head. Counting.

"How old do I look?"

"Early thirties, on your worst day."

"Good response. Ah...the last four years, average two a month, with a couple months of lag time in between...say, twenty."

Twenty. Like it's just a simple little number. 

"How many...killed?"

She stares at me, deciding on what the truth is in this moment. 

"All."

I take a long drag, and let that sink in.

"Was she...with you, the whole time? Like a team?"

"No. I never introduced her. I didn't even know, didn't think she was...on our side, till about three months ago."

"Did I...change anything? Your mind? Feelings?"

I see a half smile before she responds, "Of course. You're such a stupid, stubborn man. Just too witty, too opposite of what I'm used to. It's like you're not scared of me. Of my truth. Of my monster."

I'm breaking through.

"No matter what we do, you keep trying to get to me, even though all you see is the act. 

"Don't get me wrong I love the act, the...costumes and all, I can see why guys are attracted to prostitutes-"

"You calling me a prostitute?"

"Honey, if the stiletto fits..." 

Her facial reaction causes me to laugh openly, and she eyes me with a smile.

"I'm infatuated by you. One day, I want to get your story, the whole unedited, off the record account of your life as a woman agent of chaos. All the corrupt men you've broken or killed. You have all their secrets. And know their stories. You're like Dexter."

She smiles shyly, "One day."

"Are they, buried out here?"

"One day."

"No matter what you tell me, it won't change how, what I feel."

Her eyes focus on me, I see her sizing me up to my words.

She gets up and walks to the door. Turning her back on me, then looking back quickly to check me. I set, not moving on the bed.

"Opposite." I reassure her. Her eyes cling to me. I wait for her to say something.

She comes back, eyeing me without words. Stun gun in hand, the other holds a key. I hold my wrists up, and she unlocks without mistake. My hands free, we stare into each other through the dark.

"Now you know my story. Kelly Kitchen was my first crush. I lost my virginity in an abandoned train car. Trojan...was the mascot, not the condom."

She turns and walks to the door. I see her face reflecting in the moon light, a breath of warm air exhaled from her lips blocks her face.

I smile before I say, "Good night."

She smiles for a moment. "Good night."

She disappears and the hum from the door doesn't come on. I grab the brown paper bag and get dressed in clean clothes, wash my face in the cold water of the sink, before curling up in the sleeping bag.

It's dark, and warm under my thermal blanket. The howling wind outside makes me snuggle in my cocoon, before I know it, I'm dreaming of a world covered in water. Dragons by my side. On some journey with people I only know in my subconscious