Into the Heart of a Killer: Memoirs of an Assassin

Chapter Three

It took me a long time to get everything down. My eighth birthday came and went and I barely even noticed it fly by. Ceseth, whom I now found relatively sane and insane in equal parts, taught me everything he could. I now knew more than just English and was proficient in the English language like I was certain no other eight-year-old had ever been or ever would be. I knew words I hadn't even known existed a year ago. I stopped talking about my mother altogether, even though she was a constant force in my mind, looming over my shoulder like a dark cloud. Ceseth hadn't asked me to kill anyone and showed no signs of asking me to anytime soon. He now trusted me enough to let me out of his sight for short periods of time – usually around half an hour to forty-five minutes. Being able to do so was a blessing. I loved having at least a little freedom. I met a new friend when I was out shopping for Ceseth. His name was Tane, and even though Tane was a small boy for nine years old, he was my only friend. Ceseth told me not to get too attached to him, but for the most part, Ceseth was completely unaware of what I did in my free time, and as far as I was concerned, who I associated with when I was on my own time was my own business. If I deemed Tane my best friend simply to spite Ceseth, I would.

I noticed my rebellious streak had flared up under Ceseth's tutelage. I didn't like taking orders, but I wasn't afraid of him hitting me anymore. He did that plenty of times over the last year and I grew used to it. It wasn't too bad, really. I'm pretty sure it gave me thicker skin, and I didn't have to worry about it hurting as much anymore. Sometimes he'd use his hands, and sometimes he'd use a training stick. Along with teaching me languages, he had decided it was important for me to start getting into shape for learning what would come in the future. Both fortunately and unfortunately, that day didn't seem to be coming anytime soon. To begin learning to read and write, he had taught me the names of the various herbs he said he would later teach me about. Only now was he finally getting around to teaching me their uses.

I knew herbs and chemicals, from aconite to black widow venom. I just didn't know what they did. Ceseth said he was willing to put these things off because it was more important that I knew how to read first. I would readily admit I had used to be self-conscious about my inability to read and write, but he had made me more than confident in my ability to be eloquent. Even though I didn't care to admit it, I thanked Ceseth for teaching me these things. But now II had to learn what I had been having nightmares about for the last year: being forced to kill. His "office" was cleaner now: he had made me clean it up for him as part of my chores (which I had a lot of). It had taken days, because on top of making the floor visible I had to build him a new bookshelf for his books and then order them alphabetically and by subject. It had been, he said, a test of my practicality and my language skills. Eventually he had had to help me build the bookshelf, but I had gotten a decent amount of it built without his help, and I was proud of that. There were still many things I couldn't do on my own, or at all, but that would change soon enough. I didn't get scared as much anymore, either, but my heart was throbbing with the thought of being taught poisons.

"Jae'sa," he said, coming into the study. I was already there, sitting on the floor and contemplating what my life was about to become. I was too young to do these things. I often heard Ceseth mutter things under his breath like that when I complained about something he found childish or didn't understand some complex theory right away. He had a knack for making me feel stupid and like he couldn't even trust the knowledge I did have.

"Yes?" I asked, turning to look at him.

"It's time for your first lesson."

I nodded and turned around to face him fully.

~*&*~

After he stopped talking I felt sick. In my hands I held the book Poisonous Plants and Herbs, and we had spent the last few hours going through it. Ceseth had gone through everything that Ceseth said we would be working on, ranging from deadly nightshade to oleander. He taught me the multiple uses of oleander and said that we would be using it quite frequently. He called it the "best of our tools," even though I didn't really understand what that meant. My stomach was roiling and my mind was racing. Half of me wanted to forget everything he ever told me, but the other half knew if I forgot anything I'd face physical consequences for it. Why me? I thought, looking down at the book in my hands. This book...this book was the very beginning of my entrance into being a killer. After this, there truly was no turning back. I had always known in the back of my mind that I wouldn't be able to fight against Ceseth's will. He didn't even have to hit me – raising his voice was scary enough.