Secret of a Good Bad Girl

Chapter 3

The picture is of Jonathan.

As a ten-year-old who had never been alone for even twenty-four hours her whole life, I spent the two weeks of solitary confinement curled up on my bed. I was alone and scared, but near the end, I asked myself why I was scared and realized I had nothing to be afraid of. I still wanted human contact, but I didn't lust for it. When they let me out, I walked out like it was normal and like I wasn't shaken at all by the confinement.

The first thing we did was resisting torture. We were individually forced to be restrained and take a small pill that stimulated nerves and caused pain without really hurting us. The other three watched. We were told that by saying the word "red" the torture would stop, but we weren't supposed to give in. The first time I did it, it only lasted ten minutes. I was able to last that long by lying to myself and saying that it would end in one minute. I would count to sixty, then lie again and count to sixty once more. One other person and myself got through the ten minute session without saying "red". The next time we did it, it was increased to twenty minutes and the word was "February". Each session, the time was increased and the words turned to phrases, then paragraphs, then long recitations.

After we got it to four hours and two weeks had passed, we moved on to combat. Now that we were able to resist pain, it helped with the fighting. We each had a combat trainer and mine was GC. He pushed me past my breaking point and I thought I would die. I wanted to die, but when I had gotten over that, like the confinement, I pushed myself. I met my match with one of the other trainees and we tied for first in combat, though we still had a long way to go.

***

The first day of training is a bunch of classes talking about honor and trust and hope and the like. I find it extremely boring, but I pretend to listen intently. We are told the Agency Code of Conduct and are forced to memorize it.

For the hundreth time, I repeat, "As an agent, I will obey my superiors without question. I will uphold the law and show kindness to all, even those who oppose me." Half of the time I'm gagging and choking out the words, still keeping a straight face (an incredible feat. It took a while for me to perfect this practice.) "I will show mercy, love, faithfulness, happiness, and goodwill to all." For the next minute, I continue reciting the sappy, nauseating words until it ends with "Amen." I'm not praying. Why do we say "amen"?

After a couple thousand more recitations, we finally get to take some physical exams. Now this is my kind of thing. I'm disappointed that I can't actually break anything (or anyone), like in The Office's training, but I can live with just this for a while. We are taken to a large room and are placed in predetermined pairs. I am paired with a boy who, from the looks of him, works out very often. He stands like a fighter who knows what he's doing.

Of course, I am better than him because I have learned to hide my fighter's stance. I can be even more ready to defend myself than him without the way he's standing.

I will lose. I won't go down without a fight, but I will throw this fight. I think he'll make it past the first stage of training at least.

We are wearing clothes like those you'd wear for a gym class, though I never had one.

We are told to wait in lines in front of any of the five combat mats and I just follow my partner, who goes with his friends. We wind up near the back and I stand timidly next to him as he ignores me.

I could kill him right now. And now. And if I had a knife, now. Now.

Finally he turns to me. He looks me over and I keep my casual, timid stance. "Hey."

"Hey." I raise my eyebrows for an instant in greeting.

"Not much of a fighter?" He asks. He thinks I'm not a good fighter. He doesn't see me. I'm so good at this.