The Good Girl Who Went Bad

Chapter 13: Normal Day in Reality

Drake stayed that night, and we watched a few movies for a while.

He kept looking at me, all in different ways. He looked proud, happy, then sad and regretful, and then that face that says 'it's for the best', and then back to the start again.

I really didn't know what he was thinking, and why he was giving me all those looks.

Little did I know, I was to find out soon...

* * * * *

The next morning, I realised Drake had left my house early. A grim smile appeared on my face, as I thought that he probably had a 'job' to do.

Like it does when I'm still tired and it's early in the morning, my mind started imagining things that Drake was probably doing right then, and as you could tell, they weren't nice things.

I imagined him breaking into someone's home, with a smirk on his face, scaring the shit out of anybody in that house. And then he sneaks through the house, searching for the criminal that he's hunting down.

Then he finds the criminal, and all hell breaks loose.

My mind couldn't conjure up the thought of Drake fighting - that was too hard to imagine even for my overactive imagination. But instead, it could conjure up the effects of the fight.

Bloodcurdling screams.

Gun shots.

Knives slashing.

A humourless laugh.

Then silence.

It was like a little horror scene from a movie on a TV in my head, and before I could start screaming at what my tired mind had made up on the spot, I thought about something else, as if I'd just pulled out the plug on the TV.

It had reminded me of the bloody chaos my living room had been only a while ago, and it really didn't want to be reminded of that.

I remembered that Drake had told me last night that he'd tried to run away from the agency a few times, unsuccessfully. Later on that night, I had wondered why, if he was in charge of his agency, he couldn't get away.

He'd answered that by saying that there is a 'Top Boss'. I didn't know what he meant by that, althought it was pretty simple and I should have understood it before.

Drake had said, 'I might own my own agency, but there are hundreds dotted all over the UK. And like I own my agency with my, erm, employees, you could say, there is the top boss who owns all the agencies around the country, and we are all his employees.'

I felt really dumb, then, and looked away, blushing. But Drake didn't seem to mind, and he pulled me towards him, wrapping his arm around me and kissing my forehead.

'That's why I could never get away,' he continued, his voice quieting slightly. 'Because the top boss is better than all of us put together. It would have to take a miracle, and a very, very smart, sly, and fast person to get away.'

That must feel horrible.

Being owned by someone that you only knew as 'the top boss', not being able to get away from your dangerous agent career, and being stuck in it for life.

Never being able to live normally, without being in danger. Never being able to have proper friends, in case they get killed or threatend as a ransom. Having to give up your family (although Drake didn't, but I guessed that all of Drake's 'employees' had to stay away from their own families) so that they didn't get killed or threatened either...

I would hate to be like that.

I still wondered why Drake couldn't get away, because he was on of the top agents in the world, of what I knew anyway. And if he was, couldn't he try to pull one over on his fellow 'colleagues' or something?