Lettie

Chapter 3

Collette-age 22-5 years ago

I stayed on the brink of consciousness for what felt like days, the cold metal of the warehouse floor did nothing to help the bone chilling ache that had settled in. My blood had started to turn sticky, it reminded me of those zombie video games my foster siblings once played. I knew I had to get up, if I stayed here any longer, I won't make it. This is what we were trained for, I had every bone in my body broken until I learned not to scream. Every single one of my fingernails have been removed more times than I can count for my inability to follow orders. I'd had my mouth stapled shut for talking back, a little scar still sat above my lip from where I ripped out the staple so I could spit in my instructors' face. This? It was survivable, but I had to move.

One agonizing moment after another my body started to listen and move. I made the decision to remove the tattered fabric that was my shirt and jeans, struggling to stand in my torn and barely their sports bra and boy short panties, I started my journey out of the warehouse. At some point during the beating, they moved me from Marks office to the lower-level basement. In doing so they made my trip out of here excruciatingly longer. Bastards. Not that I should have anticipated anything less, it's what I would have done. Now that I'm on the move my mind appears to be catching up and I immediately think of Jackson. How long have I been here? Was he okay? Not many knew my identity, but enough of Kingston Securities high profile clients who hired us regularly knew of me. They knew what I was capable of, so I was highly sought after, and because they knew what I was capable of, my identity was kept private enough. My real name never mentioned, and my field name only mentioned in hushed tones or behind closed doors. By this point my train of thoughts had distracted me enough from the pain that I was coming up on the exit of the warehouse. I just needed to make it a bit farther, to my car.

"Glad to see you're alive, Ghost." Marks sickly sweet voice called out from behind me. It took every ounce of my training not to visibly flinch at the sound.

"It's what I was trained to do, and since when do you call me by my field name?" I kept my eyes trained at the door, unwilling to lose sight of my escape. To Jackson.

"It seemed fitting, last time and all that." There was a lightness to his voice that unnerved me.

"Goodbye, Mark." I whispered as I made my final escape, his soft chuckle a whisper in the wind behind me.