"Should we talk?" Ethan stood in the doorway and stared at Charlotte. His expression was unreadable, measured. Charlotte picked up the carving knife from her bedside locker. The weapons at her disposal weren't exactly high tech, but she could make them work. It was the best Nancy's kitchen had to offer.
"No," she replied. Her voice was monotone, icy. She felt empty and it suited her. She liked it even. Feeling nothing was a welcome relief from the hours she had spent sitting on the floor of her room, wishing the pain in her chest would stop or just kill her. It was a relief after every day she had spent waiting, ever since James was taken from her at the hotel. Now her hands were itching for revenge. Her tense muscles craved retribution. Her alteration wanted to feast, and who was she to deny it? She didn't think she was strong enough to stop it anyway, even if she wanted to. She needed a distraction now and in her opinion the best one she could imagine was already waiting for her.
"Good," he nodded. "What's your plan?"
She shrugged, standing up and pulling on a black hoody she had found in the wardrobe. "The plan was to attack Nicholls' house tonight. I plan to see it through".
"Recklessly or carefully?" Ethan watched her without judgement.
"I don't have a death wish, Ethan," she sighed.
Ethan nodded and then paused. "Listen, Charlotte, about James... we'll..."
"I'm not talking about it," she said in a voice that was just slightly too loud. She furrowed her brow and turned to him. "I am doing what I have to. I will get myself to the house and I will fight like I have been trained to fight. I will kill like I have been trained to kill. I will be the perfect soldier, everything Elmhirst dreamed I would be... but I will not talk to you about Alexander. Not now. Now my focus needs to be on surviving tonight, no matter what strides he has gone to in order to make that impossible".
Ethan rubbed his jaw. She could see the cracks in him, the weaknesses beginning to appear. She could sense his fear and anxiety. She could taste it. She wondered if he could see them in her? Could he see the knife wounds that James had carved in her? Could he see each methodical mark made by each one of his words? She exhaled, slowly.
"Are you with me? Or have you changed your mind?" she asked, wondering if it was possible.
"I'm with you," he said, but she could see in his expression that this had already defeated him.
"Is this a suicide mission?" she asked, placing the knife in her belt.
He smiled, a broken, tired smile. "That depends on how our luck plays out". His words were far from comforting. Did he think it would be luckier if they survived or if they fell tonight?
"Do you still believe in luck?" she whispered.
He laughed, but it barely touched his mouth. "No, I guess not". He paused. "Charlotte, I feel like I'm playing injured. This... it's damaged us. He's betrayed us".
"Ethan please – I can't do this. I can't talk about him". She met his electric blue eyes. He looked like a wounded child. She could only imagine how she appeared to him. "We're tired, but... I need to do this. Now while I'm angry. I want to hurt them. I want to hurt the people who caused all of this. I want to hurt them so much". Her voice was a furious whisper and she could hear the grief breaking through. "Before reality sinks in and I'm lost to... to... this, I want to do what I was trained to do".
"They're trained to do this too," he pointed out. "And they're experienced".
"They were experienced yesterday as well, when you gave us the plan. Don't tell me you're having doubts?"
YOU ARE READING
Feared
Science Fiction'Play the game, she thought, remembering the only three words that had helped her to survive at Kingston. Only back then she had known the game, she had known what they wanted her to be, what they had wanted her to do - this man was different. She d...
