Again

Chapter 43: Part Two.

After witnessing my father's death and the abduction of my mother, I was paralyzed. They took me, literally, because I wasn't able to walk. They put me into a car and drove to the countryside. A house, standing alone. Nothing but woods and greenery around, nobody that could've heard me. No place I could have escaped. I remember them talking in the car.

"What should we do with him?" asked one of the man. He had a long black beard mixed with grey.

"He's useless, let's just get rid of him," said the man driving. He was younger and had broken brown eyes.

"He isn't useless," said the man that killed my father. He reminded me of someone, but I was so terrified that I couldn't think. They were deciding my faith, while I was sitting with them. He looked at the others with what seemed to be disappointment. "Oh no, I can't be the only one seeing the opportunity we have here. We have his mother and he's still young. Coming from a family of spy's he probably also has excellent genes. We could use him."

"Use him as what?" said the beard one.

The smile that the man had on his face still haunts me in my dreams, waiting for me in the dark corners of the world. "As a weapon."

I think everybody has some sort of secret. It starts small, little things like breaking something and saying that you didn't do it, because you're scared to get in trouble. Everybody knows that everybody lies. But no one knew it like me. I was born into lies, fake identities and false life's. I thought my father was an ordinary College Professor. Turns out he has been a spy for fifteen years. He had been trained, doing the dirty work for the government. Torching people to get answers. My mother, who I thought was a nurse used to travel from country to country and spying on the people that my father later torched. Gathering enough information about friends and families. Just like in the movies. My life was a fucking movie.

We drove to an abandoned house outside the country. It was huge and to my surprise there were other children as well. Everyone had a different story, but there was one boy that I had to share a room with. His name was Ed. My best friend, brother and partner in crime. I came to understand that every boy had a different story. Though, they were all kind of similar. Some of them were here because their parent sold them to either protect themselves or a sibling. Other's were here due the same reasons I was. But in the end, it didn't matter. We were here. We were trained to be soldiers. And if we failed, we'd die.