The Assassin's Weakness

We Take No Prisoners

I woke with a start, I had had a nightmare. It was the same one that haunted me every night since the funeral.  It had been two weeks since I had been dropped here with James. He was nice enough, but we are definitely not going to be braiding eachothers hair any time soon. Of course he was emotionally distant from me and everyone else.

I sat up in bed still sweating slightly from the panic that is still raging in my mind. The nightmare starts simple enough, me, walking through the grave yard, trying to find my father, when suddenly I hear a gun shot. I turn to see my father fall to the ground dead, and a man in black walking toward me. Me running to get away, then hiding behind a tree, as he walks by I feel a scream building in my throat. But I keep hidden and watch as he looks around, then when he sees me I make a run for it. But it feels like I'm running through water and I'm grabbed from behind and thrown to the ground knocking the air out of me. He's just raising his gun when I wake up.

     This has been my curse, and each night the dream adds a little more. So far the man has no face, and I just hope it stays that way.

      I get up and get ready for the day. James keeps me busy with helping him pile the wood he chops for the fire place. But for the most part I volunteer to be on clean up duty, which he at first insisted he could do by himself.
    The first time I cooked changed his mind. I could tell it almost pained him to see what a mess the kitchen was after I  had gotten done baking the cake. The perfectionist he is, he had to make sure everything was cleaned and put away before he would go to bed. That was the only thing I could read from his face that day. He has major OCD. I don't. Fantastic. 

   When we went to the grocery store (which was hardly ever because he didn't want me seen by that many people) he clammed up again and hardly said a word. Oh, sure, he smiled when called for and glared at any men he caught looking at me but other than that he was completely neutral.

There was only one time I had ever seen him actually lose his temper. It was the first week, and we had gone to get hot coco for me. I was getting cabin fever from being stuck in the house so long. 
    This man had started to ask me about which brand of hot coco I liked better, which was innocent enough. James stood there casually at the end of the aisle and waited. Then the man asked for my number, which had James walking briskly to me, and once he got there he said, and I quote.
"Why in hell should she give you her number? Piss off before I break your face." His voice was calm, but his face looked extremely scary.  I had questioned him about it afterword but all he said was that he didn't like the way he was looking at me, and it was his job to keep me safe. I knew there was more too it though, some how I knew.

Finally after I pulled myself out of all the memories and stop my shaking, I went out to the kitchen to find that he's already made me breakfast.
"Good morning. Are you hungry?" Like he needs to ask.
"Thank you." I sit and begin to devour the omlet. He's a really good cook.
"What do you want to do today?" He asks sitting in the chair next to me with his coffee.
"Can we go swimming? The weather man said it's suppose to be eighty today." I say in between bites.
"What would you swim in?" He asks me slightly smirking. I know he thinks I packed only cool weather clothes, so I narrow my eyes at him and get out of my chair disappearing into my room to rifle through my underwear drawer. Marching back into the kitchen I throw my swim suit in his face.
   At first he doesn't seem to know what it is, but as he puts it on the table his face changes to a deep shade of red.
It's my turn to smirk.
"Okay, I'll get the truck out then." He clears his throat and abruptly leaves to get things ready.
   I laugh and eat the rest of my omlet.
Funny how one simple item of clothing can change a man's mind.