After Chris had left the house to attend meetings in the office, I stepped out to the garden porch with a book in my hand. The weather was warm enough to sit outside midday.
The guards were rotating their shifts as a 24/7 team was set up to guard the outside of Chris's house. Or wherever I went to. Unsurprisingly enough, Bilal wasn't the only spy of the King that was working for the government. Aideon, whose shift was together with Bilal that day, came closer for a talk.
"Remember your goal"
He had said.
"Soon"
He had said.
And then took a step back.
With only my hand, I made two gestures. Circling my hand as a sign of walking. Then I dragged my finger across my throat.
He held two fingers up: the second option.
Death.
Mine? Chris? Or was I being called in for another murder? Another mission?
I refused to believe that King would let the death of Edward slip aside that easily. Not even I could get away from King's wrath so easily this time. Everyone's reaction towards my murder was way too easy, too accepting, too overlooking for my taste. Too calm and peaceful. It made me doubt myself more every day. Was I perhaps imagining all of this?
"She retrieved to her mind more often than answering the questions. She has been a victim of sexual harassment, abuse and rape ever since her teenage years. Perhaps since her childhood but her trauma blocking is too strong for her to remember much. This is one of the reasons why her mental health is resilient enough for her to put up with everything she has seen up until now. She has grown up being exposed to only the environment of crimes, it is her reality. Harming themselves and harming others were their daily activities. According to Isabelle, they would be put into time outs very often as punishments for their behaviour. For something as simple as not performing to the customer's expectations. Such as the black box. She was put into one multiple times. If one of the girls got closer to the other, they had to watch the other being punished. Or hurt their friend. Isabelle kept on saying that her hands were drenched in innocent blood..."
"So she was forced into prostitution? Becoming a dark angel?", Chris had asked him after agonising, long silence.
"Yes. But Isabelle does not see it as forced prostitution anymore. She is confident in her own body and her skills. She is confident in performing sex with most of her clients. She earned her spot as the top Dark Angel and therefore can profit from the privileges the others do. This is a survival skill that proved her helpful"
"Privileges? Did she mention any?"
"She said that she learned programming after receiving a laptop for her promotion. And she is booked only from special clients who had, to quote Isabelle, heard of hygiene rather than being passed on between filthy men. That was what the new girls were now booked for"
It was true. Most of the things I had said.
I was confident in sex.
My hands were drenched in blood.
But those men had not been innocent.
Nor had I any regrets for my murders.
And I was even better and confident in my kills.
A week after my first therapy session with Preston, things appeared to be as normal as they could be in my given situation. I was kept away from the investigators' office but Chris would sometimes come up to me with a file or a tablet in his hand. Asking if an area, a building, or a person looked familiar. If I could tell him anything about it. Most of the time I told him the truth when I said that I didn't know them.
Sometimes, I lied. While he was gone, I kept myself busy with taking care of the house or reading books. The last thing I wanted was to overstep any boundaries but Chris said he didn't mind if I helped out with the chores around the house. Knowing it would keep me busy. I saw the way he looked at me when the guards were around us. He didn't like it but went along with it.
