The Assassin
“Simone,” I called as I rapped my knuckles against the bathroom door. “Are you alright in there?”
Behind the door, I could hear the shower head still running, but the water had to be cold by now. Simone had been in there for almost an hour.
When she and Maria arrived back at the van, I was worried about the lack of blood on either of them. Usually, our missions always ended with some blood splatter. For a second, I thought Simone changed her mind about killing Marcos.
Then, I saw the hollowness in her eyes. The one that follows after your first kill. No matter how badly the kill may have been warranted or wanted, it never failed to leave you with questions. About mortality. About morality. About yourself.
Simone barely spared me a glance as she climbed back into the van. She just sat down on the bench in the loading bay and started unloading her weapons belt.
“What happened?” I whispered to Maria, who climbed up in the passenger seat.
She tossed him off the balcony, Maria signed. Took me almost ten minutes to drag her out of there because she wouldn’t stop staring.
Knowing Simone, she was probably committing his dead face to memory. More gasoline for the fire she was going to spit at whoever was next on her list.
Although I was proud of her for following through on this, I was worried about how else the image may affect her.
Simone didn’t respond to my initial question, so I knocked again. “Simone, I need you to say something or I’m coming in.”
Her voice didn’t pierce through the running water.
I grabbed the doorknob and tried the knob. Thankfully, for her sake, it wasn’t locked.
Old steam flooded out the doorway as I opened the door. Her old clothes were in a pile on the floor. The shower curtain hung over the tub, obstructing my view of Simone.
My heart beat faster in my chest as I rushed over to the tub. I clutched the side of the shower curtain and flung it open, hoping there wasn’t blood or worse on the other side of it.
Simone was sitting on the bathtub floor, her knees pulled to her chest and her arms wrapped around her legs. The water fell over her like rain, drenching her hair and body. Her eyes were fixed on the wall across from her.
I rushed over to the shower head and placed my hand underneath the water.
Ice cold droplets splashed against my palm.
“What are you doing?” I scolded as I turned the water off.
“You’re gonna get sick.” I yanked the clean towel off of the hook on the adjacent wall and laid it over her.
I hooked my arms underneath her arms and waist and lifted her up out of the tub.
“Come on,” I murmured. “Let’s get you warmed up. ”
I carried her into the bedroom and laid her down on the bed. I dried her with the towel, then used her favorite shea butter lotion to moisturize every inch of her skin. Once I was finished, I pulled one of my sweatshirts over her head.
She remained still throughout it all, staring thoughtlessly ahead of her.
“Hey,” I said, taking her chin and tugging at it so she’d look at me. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
She stared at me for a moment, some of the glaze clearing from her eyes. Before it could fully unveil her irises, she looked away again. She pulled her legs back against her chest and lay her chin down atop her knees.
“Don’t do that,” I said, scooting closer to her. “Talk to me.”
“Marcos,” she murmured, her voice barely audible. “He…he didn’t…” She sucked in a deep breath. “He didn’t order my father’s death.”
“What? Are you sure?”
She nodded. “The bastard barely remembered his name. He said…he said the agents in his pocket made that decision. And I…I’ve been sitting here trying to figure out why they would do that. I mean what else…what else would make them do that? What would drive Logan to do that?”
“Well, you said your father had evidence that they were working with Marcos. Maybe they were afraid he was going to expose them.”
“But, in his letter, he also admitted he didn’t know what I could do with the information.
Which means the corruption might extend higher than we think.
” She sighed. “Maria swiped all the information he had on his computer. I’m hoping I can find some more names, figure out who in the agency he’s been working with, and add them to my list.”
“But that’s not really what’s bothering you, is it?”
She shook her head. Moisture welled in her eyes as she spoke.
“I just…I just feel so stupid, you know? I planned to dedicate my life to this agency - to doing good. All for the entire thing to be a lie. These men killed my father - and god knows how many others who didn’t fall in line.
How could they take a vow to protect and go against it?
How could they be so cruel? Hell, how could I be so naive? ”
I rubbed her back. “You were just trying to do the right thing.”
“I don’t even know what the right thing is anymore,” she said, her voice cracking.
She blinked, and a few tears rolled down her cheeks.
“I’m not sure there even is such a thing.
Everywhere I turn, there’s corruption and violence and death.
Do good things even exist? Or is that just a myth sold to us in childhood to keep the rose colored glasses on our eyes a little longer? ”
“I don’t know,” I replied. I wiped the tears off of her cheeks. “Never got a pair of those glasses.”
“Do you believe there’s good in this world?” She asked, turning towards me. A hint of desperation glimmered in her eyes as did fear. She knew I wouldn’t lie to her - nor would I sugarcoat my answer. She needed my honesty, and she was bracing herself for it.
“Yeah,” I murmured. “I see it everyday when I look into your eyes.”
She scoffed. “I’m serious.”
“So am I. You don’t have to be the perfect definition of good to embody it; you just need to carry the principle of it.”
“And what is that?”
“Wanting to help others, actually doing it when possible, and trying to see the good in people - no matter how far down that goodness might be. You do all of that every single day.”
“Today I didn’t. I shoved that man off a balcony.”
“And he deserved that shit. His death wasn’t just justice for your dad; it was for everyone else he hurt too.”
She shrugged, her eyes falling again. “Yeah, I guess.”
“Hey,” I nudged, bringing her gaze back to me. “You did good tonight. I’m proud of you.”
A tiny smile tugged at her lips. Scooting closer, she pushed her head into the crook of my neck and rested on my shoulder.
I wrapped my arms around her and kissed the top of her head.
With how loud her thoughts seemed to be, I doubted she’d be getting any sleep tonight. I was prepared for the tossing and turning, the crying, and the silent dissociations. She wasn’t going to face them alone. I was going to be here, holding her, for as long as she needed.