A Double Li[f]e Pt. 2

I open my eyes to a field of flowers. I smile softly, feeling the warm sunshine on my face. I get up, standing in the midst of millions of daisies. My feet are bare and I'm wearing a white dress. I take a deep breath and inhale the sweet air of spring. I'm afraid to close my eyes, maybe forcing me out of this field. I look around, stopping on a young girl.

"Hello." I say, offering her a smile. She tilts her head and blinks, offering an empty smile in return.

"Who are you?"

"My name is..." I stopped for a moment and the little girl's eyes turned dark black, and she began to rise from the ground. I held up my arm in front of my face, to see my bruised and broken arm hanging in front of me.

"No..." I moan and start breathing quickly. I turn to run and fall to the ground, blood pooling under me from my leg bones poking through my shin. I cry out, not because I'm in pain but because it's all coming back to me...

My eyes flash open and I'm screaming. The soldiers are holding me down... I start sobbing when i stop screaming, trying to tell them desperately that I was just trying to survive. It's all incomprehensible. They can't understand. God the pain...My eyes flutter and i feel someone tapping gently on my face. I open my eyes and he gives me a thumbs up. I think it's a he. It's hard to tell in fatigues. I can't hear their voices. They can't hear mine. All I can feel is pain and the hot tears pouring down my face. The heat... god it's hot here...I look at the soldier and close my eyes.

The field is gone. I'm back in a room with the interrogator. I shudder and look up from my feet, to his face. I'm met with a slap, and I cringe, opening and closing my jaw a couple times, getting ready to spit out some vicious slur. Instead, nothing comes out. I blink and open my mouth again, mouthing the words to a swear, but no sound emits. What the hell...I'm slapped again and he begins speaking but not in a language I understand.

My eyes open again and I'm on a stretcher. There's some kind of loud rumbling about me. I'm strapped down again. This time by straps and not by arms. I look over to where some of the noise is coming from. There are two men in camo coats standing to my right. They seem to be discussing something, but the background noise is too loud. I grimace and tug at the back of one of their coats. The doctor turns and smiles wide for a moment before, frantically looking at something. What's that beeping? He grabs a needle and injects something into a clear tube... wait is that attached to my arm? I blink and begin to realize what's going on. I'm on an Army transport. I relax a little and the look at the gentleman again. Do I know them? I sigh and begin to feel comfortable... Maybe I won't die today.

[...to be continued]

A Double Li[f]e

I learned very early on that the ability to live a double life was the best asset to my arsenal of weaponry. It's really not as dramatic as all of that, though. Well I suppose given as I'm writing this I'm handcuffed in a confession dragged out of me. And by dragged I mean,beaten. My eye is swelling shut and the cuffs are too tight. My leg is broken and I'm covered in bruises.

A thud to the my back."Erase that. Start from the double life". I cough and lick my bottom lip. Copper. Great. More of the same then...

It's really not as dramatic as all of that, though. Well I suppose given as I'm writing this I'm handcuffed in a confession dragged out of me. And by dragged I mean,beaten. My eye is swelling shut and the cuffs are too tight. My leg is broken and I'm covered in bruises. I began my training with the CIA at the age of 20. Irony being that I couldn't yet drink but I could serve my country as a spy. It's really very difficult to have a normal life, when you're training at night and trying to go to university during the day.

I look over my shoulder to the guard behind me. Just a few more hours. They must be on their way by now... He doesn't see my act of insubordination and so i turn around again and look back to my paper. He doesn't care about any of this. Just following orders. I can't hate him for that. I can hate him for the broken bones and bruises, and the twitch I'll have for a month of so. Bastard.

My duties have led me through two divorces and an assassination of a husband. By the way I'm only 30 years old. This service without question thing must get on peoples nerves. Does it get on yours I wonder?

I stop in my writing for a moment and hear a grunt from behind me. I smile to myself and continue.

My mission as it was handed down was to

A sudden slam from the other side of my cell door and a blast of gunfire. Finally. I remain focused on my paper and the gunfire resounds through the hallway. Took em fucking long enough. I'm up in the air and thrown to the wall. "God damn it." I growl. I'd landed on my broken arm and there is bone piercing through the flesh. I can feel the cold realization of shock settling in. The door opens and my world goes black...

[to be continued]