Pierce was surprisingly helpful earlier, offering me some much-needed insight into how The Order works. But I’m not happy with what he said. A handful of people making decisions on behalf of everyone else never works out well for everyone else. I can guarantee that any decision made is in some way beneficial to the person or people making it. Or, at a push, the highest-paying clients.
He mentioned Mr. Way. For me, that was a cut-and-dried job. The guy sold women and girls to wealthy men, essentially for the purposes of sexual slavery. No one will ever convince me that killing him wasn’t the right thing to do. But what I’m not convinced of, is that there wasn’t a bigger picture being considered when the contract was taken out on him. I think they do go around killing all sorts of bad people, for no other reason besides they were bad — which I consider almost honorable. But what I don’t like is when they start serving their own agenda and disguising it as the greater good. Shit like that sounds a little too familiar, and history proves it’s never a good thing when people do it.
I slam the palm of my hand down hard on the wheel.
“Goddammit!”
I can’t believe I’ve been so blinded by everything that I didn’t see any of this coming. I knew something was off, from the moment I woke up in that bed. But I carried on anyway. And where has it got me? I only have one friend in this new life, and now I have to kill her or risk having my head blown off my shoulders.
I grip the wheel tightly with both hands until the color drains from my knuckles. I can feel myself getting angry and frustrated. I’ve not been myself since waking up in that weird room. I rolled with it for a while, but when the honeymoon was over, even I managed to recognize there was something fundamentally wrong with me. Hence the therapy. Which, don’t get me wrong, has been helping — much more than I thought it would. But there’s still something not quite right. It’s as if a part of me is missing. It’s not the killer instinct, it’s more…
I let out a long sigh as I realize what I’m getting at.
It’s the desire. The passion. My heart’s just not in it anymore. It feels as if I was doing this for so long simply because I had to. But when I moved to Devil’s Spring, it was over for me. I didn’t have to do anything. And that made me happy. But this life caught up with me and ruined everything. I was forced back into this world and I resent it for making me pick up my guns again. And now, after everything I’ve been through, I’m stuck in this vicious cycle, unable to ever walk away from this life again.
All this therapy has changed the way I look at things. It’s made me question things I would otherwise have taken for granted. Maybe that’s why I’ve been questioning everything. Why I’ve been so reluctant to put my faith in The Order… I’ve been looking for a reason to back out, to stop myself from committing to my new life… Because I don’t want it. I either want my old life, to be me, or nothing at all.
I should have just…
I reach behind me and take out the Beretta tucked into the back of my waistband. I hold it low, resting it on my lap. I look down at it, admiring its beauty, finding comfort in the feel and the weight.
I look around casually. The neighborhood is quiet. The temperature’s at its hottest right now. The light blue sky is free from the blemish of any cloud, and the sun is bright and intense. I could be the only person in the world.
I lift the gun up, bringing it closer to my face. Everyone I’ve ever cared about is either dead, or thinks I’m dead. I’m essentially a prisoner in my own life, condemned to an existence of violent slavery, working for an organization that exists only in myth. I have no freedom. I can never rest. My life, such as it is, belongs to someone else, and I’m not sure I can live with that.
I flick the safety off, work the slide, and place the barrel against the fleshy underside of my chin, in the middle of my jaw. I take a deep breath and close my eyes.
Fuck it. There’s no one to miss me. I’ll finally be free. Free from the guilt. Free from the sadness. Free from…
I open my eyes and breathe out slowly.
Fuck!
Who am I kidding? We all know I’m too proud to take the coward’s way out. It’s too easy, and I don’t deserve that. If I’m going to find peace, I should be made to suffer first. To fight for it.
I put the safety back on, place the gun down on the seat beside me, and start the engine. I check my watch.
Shit. I’m already running late…
17
I sit down heavily in my usual seat and glance out the window. The glare from the sun is still reflecting brightly off the windows in the nearby buildings. I let out a long, tired sigh and look over at Kaitlyn Moss. She looks slightly disheveled, which I suspect is due to a full day in a warm office. She takes off her glasses and cleans the lenses with a piece of cloth.
“Sorry I’m late, Doc.”
Kaitlyn puts her glasses back on and nods. “It’s no trouble, Brad, though I do usually prefer a bit of notice if you can’t make the original appointment time. Luckily, I had a cancellation this afternoon, otherwise we’d have had to re-schedule.”
“I know, I’m sorry. I’ve just… it’s not been a great day, and you’re pretty much the only person I trust enough to talk to about things right now.”
She shifts in her seat, re-crosses her legs, and clasps her hands on her lap. “So, tell me what’s happened?”
I feel a little overwhelmed when I think about how to answer that question. I have to tread carefully here. I can’t say anything that would give her the impression I’ve broken the law in any way, but it’s difficult to think of a metaphor to apply to what’s actually happened that both tells the story accurately enough that her feedback can be useful, but remains vague enough that I don’t get in trouble.
I take a deep breath. “Well, I… acted without thinking earlier today. I put myself in danger to help someone close to me, and I’ve ended up putting them at risk through my actions.”
“This person who you’re close to… is it Lily?”
I nod. “That obvious, huh?”
She shakes her head and smiles. “Not obvious, but an educated guess.”
“Yeah, she came to me for help, and I offered it, but I didn’t consider the consequences of my actions, and now I think she might be in danger.”
Kaitlyn nods along thoughtfully. “Could you perhaps be seeing danger where there isn’t any? Yet again, you’ve assumed this natural role of protector… Are you possibly looking for danger as a means to justify your actions?”
I can’t help but feel as if I’m wasting her time. While I’ve no doubt what she’s saying is phenomenally accurate, based on the information I’m giving her, the fact I’m not giving her a true account of what’s happening in my life means her advice is irrelevant and, ultimately, worthless.
I shake my head. “I… don’t think so, no. I happen to know she’s in very real danger right now, and that’s a direct result of what I did. I wanted to do the right thing. I wanted to help her. But I didn’t think far enough ahead to take into account the consequences, and now she’s…”
Kaitlyn puts her hand up. “It sounds as if you’re assuming the blame for something you had no direct control over. No one can plan for something that may occur unexpectedly. All you can do is what you feel is right at the time. It’s as if you’ve expanded the guilt cycle we spoke about and you’re allowing it to encompass every aspect of your life. That’s no way to live, Brad.”
I nod. “I know. I… ah… I considered killing myself before I came here today.”