The Traitor ✓ (Book Six)

Chapter Thirty

Thirteen Years Ago

"You'll thank us- I promise." Another agent says.

"Yeah, I seriously doubt that. I like being antisocial."

"Nobody really does. It's against human nature." He shrugs.

Yesterday's events play through my mind. I'd just finished my shift at the Governor's house and a few of his other agents decided to go out today. Since we never do so, this is an extremely big deal. Most of us are too tired on our days off, me more than the rest of them since the governor thinks I'm amazing. I guess I sort of am.

They pretty much forced me to leave the house today. Two of them came to my apartment, picked my lock(I really need to get a keycard reader installed, it's impossible to replicate those) let themselves in, and scared the living shit out of me by standing two inches from my sleeping face until I woke up. I almost stabbed one of them- a reflex we've all learned( they should know better, fucking morons).

And it's true, I would much rather be taking a nap to recharge for the week- but I'm already in the car so it's too late. Just a few miles away, there's the largest mall in the country, which we intend on being at all day.

I think my antisocial- ness stems from the fact that we were told everybody is dangerous in training, that everybody can pose a threat. We're told never to discriminate hits because someone's old, or a woman, or pregnant or young- especially if they're young since people will hide behind their children, forgetting how good our aims are. Of course- traumatizing a child is never the goal, but if it happens it happens.

Killing everybody who poses a threat is also not the goal, but if it happens it happens. I can count the number that have died because of my actions on one hand, and they were all from split second decisions: Do I save this average citizen, or do I save this Governor/ Senator elect who writes laws and represents the people?

I've served those on both sides of the aisle. Here's what I've been able to gather so far: Republicans (almost all of them), are as immoral as they seem in public behind closed doors. Democrats are a toss up. Independents usually mean well, but they often turn into Switzerland- which isn't a good quality in a lawmaker.

There are very few elected Green Party politicians, none of which I've served- so I can't speak on them. One thing that is consistent, however, is this:

Most politicians (I've only worked for two who genuinely care about those they represent) only give a fuck when it affects them. They constantly think: Will this help or hurt my re-election chances? If I cosponsor this bill or or write this law, will I be ousted from party leadership or committees?

The Governor I'm working for isn't like the rest of them, and on top of that he's kind to his security, something extremely rare nowadays.

We finally pull into the parking lot of a Macy's- right next to the Barnes and noble, and get out of the car. Jake wanted to go there, says he's gonna start reading on his breaks but I don't believe him. That man only picks up books when he has to as part of the Quarter-yearly retraining classes.

We each have different tastes, so we split off and I end up in the dystopian section. I grab about twenty without glancing at the titles or prices- that's one of the benefits of working so close to the capital for the second most popular Governor.

Governor Johnson pays extremely well, almost so well that you wonder where that money comes from, though none of us have questioned him directly. This is just how politicians work- shadowy and secretively. There's nothing any of us can do about it- can you imagine how that would sound to the public?

"A whistleblower just claimed that Governor Johnson pays him too much money."

Yeah, no way I'm doing that so I can be looked at like I'm crazy.

I take the books to checkout, hand the cashier my card without looking at the price, and walk around again until I find one of the guys.

"Hey- I'm going to the food court. You want anything?" I ask.

"Uhm, giant pretzel." He says.

"Vegetable lo-mein!" Another shouts.

"Got it!" I yell back.

With that, I start heading in that direction. When I get there, I turn my head around looking for the pretzel stand- and that's when I see her.

The most beautiful human being I've ever laid my eyes on.

  Her appearance is just indescribable, but the way she carries herself is what draws me in, keeps me looking at her. She stands like she owns the world, like nobody is in the food court and she wouldn't care if we were. But there's something else in her eyes- something familiar.

A hidden sadness.

  I know because I've hidden my own for years. Otherwise, a person may look and act happy- but the eyes always give emotions away. I had to teach myself to hide it in my eyes, standing in front of a mirror- until I was satisfied.

  Her eyes finally land on me and I feel like my heart may explode. I have to make myself take a step back; I do not know this woman. She could be a fucking serial killer for all I know.

  Her eyes narrow in a "What are you looking at?" way, so I smile and approach cautiously.

  "Hello." I simply say. "I was wondering if you'd wanna-"

  "I'm not going to fuck you."

  "What?"

  "That's what all men want and it's not gonna happen." She crosses her arms.

  Yep. Somebody definitely hurt her.

  My brain buffers for a second, trying to come up with a response that won't be triggering.

  "I was.....just gonna ask if you wanted to get dinner sometime and if..... if I could have your number?"