Into the Heart of a Killer: Memoirs of an Assassin

Part 1: Prologue

My mother was raped.

Unfortunate for her, but fortunate for me, because that's what gave me life.

My mother scares me sometimes. She'll look at me with this anger in her eyes that I can't explain. I can't figure out why she doesn't love me like the other kids' parents do. I like to watch other kids play with their parents sometimes. They like to laugh and play catch. Sometimes I'll watch the parents giving their kids rides on their ponies. Now it was raining, so the kids weren't playing outside, but there were some ponies. Mother would be angry that they were getting mud everywhere. She didn't like when it rained because she doesn't like the mud. Mother likes to keep things clean, so I clean for her sometimes. She doesn't seem to care very much, though. Sometimes I ask her why she doesn't like it when I clean, but why she likes things clean. She doesn't like to look at me when she talks to me, either. I don't know what's wrong with my mother. She looks at the mothers and looks like she doesn't like them very much. Sometimes I ask her if she wants to play ball or draw pictures together. She always tells me she's busy, but she always ends up sitting in her favorite chair and looking out the window. She's sitting there today, too, but she has a different look on her face. I don't see her looking calm very often, but today she almost looks... happy.

Walking over to her, I say down at her feet, looking out the large window at the rain pouring outside. She isn't usually calm when it's raining outside, but the calmness over her expression makes me think she's happy today. I quietly watched the people walk by as I sat next to her. It seemed that hours passed before she moved again. Her slender hand rested on my head and I looked up at her. She wasn't looking at me; instead, she was looking out the window. I turned my attention back to the window, tilting my head as a man started coming towards our doorway. He was tall and scary-looking, and I moved closer to my mother's chair, seeking whatever protection she would offer me. Mother stood and walked to the door and opened it. The man's fist was in the air as if he were about to knock as she opened the door.

"Ceseth," Mother said. The name was unfamiliar to me, but I stored it away in the back of my head, wondering what kind of man Ceseth was. Mother didn't like to talk to strangers, especially men, so what made him special? "I-I've been expecting you... the gold... is over there..." Mother shuffled away from the door and moved to our small table where I colored sometimes. She picked up a small satchel that looked very full. It sounded like it was full of coin. I smiled a little. I liked counting mother's money. Sometimes she would teach me her numbers by letting me count it. I liked to do it because it was one of the only things mother did with me.

The man opened his palm and took the pouch before untying the small, coarse twin that closed it off and pouring the contents into his other pal. He whispered something to her but I couldn't hear him.

"It's all I've got," Mother replied. She didn't look happy anymore. I got to my feet and waddled closer. "You get the child, too. What more can I give you than the fruit of my womb and almost all the money I have?"

"You're paying me to take the child off your hands," Ceseth said, shaking his head slowly. I moved a little closer. They didn't seem to notice me, but I felt bad about interrupting their conversation, so I stopped as soon as I got as close as I dared. "Why shouldn't I get paid more money? Most people don't pay others to take their children. If you're paying me to take her, then there's something wrong with her."

"Oh, no, no," Mother said, shaking her head and waving her hands. "No. No. Give me the money. Give... give me the money." She scooped the coins out of the man's hands and put them back on the table. Then she turned to me and I looked at her in confusion as she waved me over. "Come here, my child. Come... come to mommy. Good girl... what a good girl."

I walked over to her slowly and looked up at the man who was staring at me. He was definitely scary... I didn't like him. I didn't like him at all. I hid behind Mother, gently grasping the back of her dress.