Into the Heart of a Killer: Memoirs of an Assassin

Chapter Two

I didn't sleep very well that night. I was afraid of what was going to happen the next day. When the man came into my room in the morning I was already awake, but I was fighting to stay that way. When he looked at me and sighed, I couldn't help but yawn in response.

"You didn't sleep," he said, but I remained silent. "I told you that you had a long day ahead of you, and you didn't sleep. Did you think that was a good idea?"

"No...I'm just... scared..."

"Of what? Of me?"

I nodded slowly.

"I see," he said, looking me over. His slate grey eyes were dark and dangerous and I had to force myself not to start shaking. "I suppose you are young. There's nothing that can be done about that. I take pride in being intimidating, anyways. Helps with the job. But regardless, we're going to get you up and start teaching you. I think I've found the perfect name for you – we'll see if that changes by the end of the day. Let's start with breakfast."

I left the bedroom, wanting to take the fluffy blanket with me, but I left it behind. The floor creaked underneath my feet as we walked and it made me feel uncomfortable. I didn't like the house. It was old and noisy. As I had sat in the bed the previous night hoping to maybe catch a few moments of sleep, I had heard the house creaking. How the man managed to walk so quietly on the creaky floorboards was a mystery. I wanted to be able to walk that quietly. The thought of running away passed through my thoughts again.

"What about lunch?" I asked suddenly.

"We don't typically eat lunch," he said. "We won't have the time with your training. I'll start out letting you eat lunch but be prepared not to eat it every day anymore."

"Mama liked lunch," I whispered.

"What did I tell you yesterday? You will never see her again and she will never come for you."

"Oh," I said.

When we had reached a room resembling a kitchen, he spoke again. "Do you know how to make eggs?"

I nodded in response. Mother had showed me how to make them once because they were the easiest thing to make for breakfast.

"Really?" he didn't sound like he believed me.

"Mama showed me once..." His eyes flashed at the mention of Mother again. I bit my tongue.

"Stop mentioning her," he commanded. "I told you already. You are my property. I own you. Whatever memories you used to have of your mother and your father—"

"I don't have a Papa."

"Good. Less for you to forget."

I didn't know how to respond to him. I wasn't sure there was a response to give to begin with.

"Luckily for you," he said, changing the subject. "I've already made eggs. But in subsequent days you will be responsible for getting up on time and making your own breakfast. If you wake up late I'm not going to give you time to eat. Your body will get used to waking up on time. It might take a while, and you might miss more than a few breakfasts, but you'll get used to it."

I nodded even though I didn't understand. My heart felt sad and my tummy didn't feel good.

He seemed to think I didn't fully understand, but he turned around and left the room anyway.

I looked at the table. A small fork was by the plate on top of a paper napkin. I pulled myself into the chair and picked up the fork. Without wasting any time I began to shovel the food into my mouth. I was hungry, even though I had eaten the night before.