Before he could do anything I stepped back. He titled his head slightly to right and looked at me intently. To combat any confusion I followed my action with a question, "why is the agency after me? I didn't let anyone find out about project Amell." He lifted his finger to my mouth with the look of paranoia flooding his face. I pushed his finger away to make sure he understood his position of power in this conversation and to let him know I was serious. I was flooded with the memories of the previous 17 years of my life. I recall the day my father shook me above the couch by the scruff of my clothes. My body moved more like a rag doll than a girl of eight. Right before then the radio had been playing The Beetles... those songs of love. Then there was his rage and I had no idea why. Mother ran in screaming for him to stop, "She was just doing her math! Stop!" She was right, I had been lying before the fireplace with my workbook, quite happily doing sums. My father thought I had been jumping and that was the reason his stereo had failed to record the music. He dropped me and left me crumpled there, too shocked to cry, just breathing. I remember walking out with the book of equations in one hand and in the other just an empty canvas that will support my face when it rests. When I walked the busy roads tears dwelled up in my eyes and it burred the image of my path completely I walked into a tall dark figure accompanied with a deep voice that spoke these words exactly: "Why are you walking so fast?" I was in no mood to engage in any converse situation so i gave a bland reply and shrugged it off. I was about halfway down this road when i felt a first tap. When i turned around it was him, the same guy. "Don't touch me." Just a few words, but they bring tears to my eyes. I never thought this is how it would feel if I left my parents, mom specifically. He bent down and handed me a leaflet: AMAZING NEW SELF DEFENSE COURSE
I was intrigued and it was free so I agreed. Little did I know I was opening a gate to painful and memorable nights, fast forward to when I was 20, I joined the CEO of this club and helped him as his right man to create the largest mafia known to man, Being a spy well kinda a spy is supposed to be cool. I was expecting a fast car, a snappy suit and some lethal gadgets. But instead they sent me to maximum security prison to wheedle information out of a mob boss. Even the guards don't know I'm from the right side of the law, any preferential treatment from them and I'd be dead by morning. So my spy job is wearing an orange jump suit and eating mush three times a day. I got a beating from an inmate yesterday and the guard stood by and did nothing. I could have taken them both out, I'm trained in combat. But it would have blown my cover so I took the licking instead. I'll have that guy's badge when I'm out of here I kept telling myself (never did), none the less they put me in the same cell as the boss. He's about as talkative as the walls and he looks through me like he already arranged to have my body sent to the bottom of the Hudson. That was one of the various fights and "missions" I went on. I'm assuming Dawson was fresh meat. When I left the mafia I promised to stay under the radar to prevent anything to be detected that would trace back to the mafia and once news spread about the murder im pretty sure it made their bodies quake, and as for my parents..
I don't know them, I never returned, I went to mountain tops and caves. from LA to China but I will never step foot back there. I was curious how things were and the best way to find things out is Google. I was never reported missing, not even a flyer, no one looked and no one cared.
"HOW LONG ARE YOU GOING TO IGNORE ME?" A voice bellowed.
It was Dawson and I replied with a smack on his shoulder, we both ended up in a fit of giggles but all of a sudden, the room went black and the silence was dyed into the aura of the room
