All For You

Three

Isla

I'm not even given three hours of sleep before someone is barging into my room and yelling at me for fucking the mission up.

They dragged me back to the meeting room, where everyone was angrily waiting for me, and now I'm sitting here being glared at by all the big bosses that sit behind a desk and drink whiskey all day.

"What do you want me to say? He told me that his brother was out of town, and then he started attacking me when I tried to get more out of him. How's that my fault?" I tell the creepy men, crossed arms, my voice so low and croaky I wouldn't be surprised if they couldn't make out what I was saying.

I'm just lucky that fuck didn't snap my neck while he was at it. Why did he have to choke me? If he knew what I was planning from the beginning, why couldn't he have just come prepared and stabbed me to death or something?

I mean, thanks to his choking, I'm still alive. But this could be considered worse. All I can feel right now is pain, and it's not like anybody here cares. I won't even be sent to be checked up on.

There's only one thing that happens to us after fucking up a mission. And it doesn't include a needle with a heavy dose of morphine in it.

"We heard the recordings, Sophie." That's not my name. My name's Isla, you asshole. They gave me an alias as soon as I joined this place, and it changes every six months or so.

For safety, mostly. Not ours, of course not. The organisation just can't get caught trafficking children across the country and using them to do their dirty work.

Even a government supported organisation can't get away with that when it comes to society figuring things out.

Nobodies that powerful.

The big men sigh and take their seats, and the discussions start. About what to do next, about what we could've done better. About who to send on similar missions next time instead of me, about my training.

And, finally, about my punishment. The best part.

"The usual?" I ask, tilting my head mockingly. The big boss sighs and nods, standing up.

He leaves and I'm taken by the arm and dragged away again, this time down a few flights of stairs until we're underground. I get sent to a different cell than last time, which is something they're tactful about.

They don't want us finding comfort or familiarity in this place, so they switch it up every time. Not that any of these cells are different in any way.

They also don't want to give us certainty, since we're supposed to suffer down here, so we're not told the extent of our punishment.

How long we're in here or what food we eat, if we get any at all. These punishments don't last any less than four days, because they don't want you expecting worse and then feeling happy you got out early or something.

I'll probably be in here for a week. They don't usually go longer than that, and I didn't mess up that bad this time, so I doubt they'll be too harsh.

As long as I keep my mouth shut down here, and Killian doesn't stir up any shit up there.

I settle in the corner of my cell, staring at my hand. It's the only thing I can see in the darkness, and it helps me relax knowing I haven't completely disappeared down here just yet.

Other than myself and a bucket to shit in, there's nothing in here. It's just a four by four square cell that gets colder during the night and warmer during the day.

That's how I like to tell the time. Maybe that's just how I go insane while I'm down here.

Either way, it works for me.