"How did she die?"
"Elena killed her as a way to hurt me. She was jealous of me. I was young, and people spoke of me as the new Maven. Elena wanted me to take a nothing assignment, and I refused. We argued, and she said, 'disagreeing with me never leads to happy results. Just ask Sela.' Then she stabbed Sela and killed a woman she'd known for nearly two decades. I held Sela while she took her last breath. Watching her die, I didn't say anything, and she didn't say anything either. Even to the end, our relationship remained undefined."
Hugging my body, I feel cold even in the warm Texas morning. "Elena told me to clean up Sela's body and get ready for the job she wanted me to do. If she didn't underestimate women, I think she might have worried about turning her back on me."
I remember how my mother didn't die quickly. I shot her in the stomach and let her bleed out while I watched. She called me every nasty name in the book, but none of them changed her fate. The one thing she said that I remember most was, "I always knew it would end this way." A part of me had always known too.
"Even after Sela died and I killed Elena, I never thought to leave that life," I say, wiping tears from my cheek. "I didn't know what else there was for me to do. That's all I knew how to be."
Brad stands and walks to where I weep for all of the lost opportunities I passed up over the years. Decades of bottled up emotion overwhelms me.
I wish I'd told Sela what she meant to me. If I could return to the moment when Elena died and I was free, I might do so much differently. Why hadn't I considered walking away from be-ing Little Maven?
Brad lifts me into his arms as effortlessly as if I'm a rag doll. I rest my cheek against his shoulder and let him be in charge. The world makes more sense when Brad holds me. With him, I'm grounded in a world full of possibilities rather than regrets.
"I love you," he says. "All of you, even the parts that scare me."
His words break me open, and I weep against his chest. I've never felt so alone even in the arms of the only person who truly accepts me. I want to be worthy of his love and trust. I need to become more, but I don't know how. All my life, I've been an extension of my mother. Even retired from that life, I'm not sure I can ever truly break free.
For Brad, I'll try to find my way, though. For Brad, I'll do anything.
27
Saskia
Breaking Wide Open
Brad sleeps sprawled on his stomach, taking up most of the bed. I watch him for nearly an hour. Our size difference seems wrong most times, but I'm perfectly petite when sharing a bed with such a large bed-hog. Curled up next to him, I wonder if I can really keep this man and the sense of belonging he provides.
My fingers gently trace one of his scars. The skin long ago healed and hardened into thick white lines. I think of Dennis carving these bizarre markings into Brad's flesh. The world is ugly, and I've seen more than my share of horrors. In reality, I've done more twisted things than what Dennis did to Brad. Yet I wish to wipe away these scars and leave him as flawless as when he was born.
In this house with this man, I've become sentimental. Idealistic even. I crave soft and safe. How can I point a gun at someone and pull the trigger now? My stomach hurts when I think of hunting down people and forcing them to talk. I'd rather remain here with Brad, watching silly horror shows and learning how to cook. My dreams are small yet feel impossible.
I'm a killer. I take lives. It's all I am and do. Brad makes me hope for more, though.
"Hey," he mumbles, rolling over in bed.
Without knowing how long I've watched him sleep, I only smile. He rubs his eyes, looking like a very large, sexy, tired baby.
"You've been awake for a while," he says, pulling me against him until I'm wrapped in his arms. "Couldn't sleep?"
"I like how quiet early morning is."
Brad studies me for a long time. His blue-eyed gaze searches my face for the real answer to his question. He finally sighs and kisses my forehead.
"I'll be right back," he says, rolling out of bed.
I watch him stalk away and admire all his muscles flexing as he stretches on his way to the bathroom. Sitting up in bed, I glance around the room and imagine living here with him. Was my dream even possible? Can Saskia Koval be domesticated?
Brad struts back to bed, wearing a big smile. "Brushed away my morning breath."
Before I can speak, he slides into bed and kisses away my worries. Once, twice, and then a third time, he pulls away his lips, only to have them return to mine. Finally, he relents and rests his head on the pillow next to where I sit.
His gaze finds the purple and blue bruises on my inner thighs. When he looks at me, I smile.
"With our size difference, I'm fortunate not to end up impaled like the poor woman in Cannibal Holocaust."
Brad's gaze softens, and a smile warms his face. "Did you research horror movies for me?"