Puppet {ManxMan}

CHAPTER 6

I seem to black out quite often for a specially trained assassin. You'd think it would be harder to get the best of me, but evidently not. I blame it on the fact I hadn't eaten in days and my rest is always horrible and usually interrupted by nightmares. That meant I wasn't at my best, which Blu really should consider before he sends me out on missions.

My recent failure wasn't even my fault, I was just so tired I couldn't concentrate, and I even ended up hallucinating. It wasn't exactly a bad hallucination, though. It was Kailas, older, not dead. It was probably what he would have looked like had he been allowed to live, but I knew there was no way it was real. Blu shot him straight in the chest. There was no way he lived through that.

Before opening my eyes I waited to regain complete consciousness, noting that I was in bed again, soft pillow at my head, thick covers tucked over me, and my arms were at my sides, under the covers. I tugged at my wrists, almost pleased to find I had been strapped down. Maybe they had developed a brain, at least this time they were smart enough to lock me in place. My ankles were free, though, so they were maybe fifty percent smarter. Good enough.

The more I moved, the more my sore nerves strained, and I groaned, pressing my head back into the pillow. A hand stroked my bangs back and pressed against my forehead, so I blinked my eyes open, waiting for my vision to clear before I could focus on the blond leaning over me.

Arthur's eyes were puffy and rimmed with red, there were dry and wet tears on his cheeks, and his glasses were partially fogged. He'd been crying. A lot. I remembered he cried a lot when we were younger, over everything, and we used to tease him about it, though we still coddled him and hugged him when he was crying. I never liked it when he cried, and I still didn't.

I tried to move my arms to hug him, but I was reminded that I was strapped down, "Arthur," my voice sounded weird, my throat was dry, "What happened? You're crying."

Arthur just stared at me before pulling his hand away and stepping back, turning to mess around with something in the room. Maybe medicine or medical tools, it seemed like he was purposely trying to distract himself and ignore me. Maybe because I just went on a spree and tried to kill a bunch of people.

"Did I kill anyone?"

"No," the voice came from my left, and I tensed up before letting my head roll to the side, "but you injured over a dozen men."

My eyes grew wide in shock at who I saw there, dressed neatly in faded blue jeans and short sleeves, naturally tanned Middle Eastern skin, rusty molasses and brown hair and the most hypnotizing green eyes I've ever seen. There was a horrible scar on the left side of his face, more than likely the result of being pistol whipped by Blu.

It didn't matter though, he could have scars everywhere and I wouldn't care. He was alive, my best friend. I thought Blu had killed him, but there he was sitting in the chair beside a hospital cot I was strapped to because I was an assassin, I couldn't be trusted, I was dangerous. Suddenly I felt embarrassed, I couldn't look him in the eye, so I turned my head away, swallowing the sudden lump in my throat.

"Kailas," I said his name just to say it, just to make sure I wasn't dreaming, but when I spoke I didn't look at him, I stared directly up at the ceiling. For a moment I thought he wouldn't reply, he was still a hallucination, but he did respond to me.

"Demi," the mattress to my left dipped down a bit, so I turned my head more to avoid looking at him, "I'm sorry you have to wake up like this. Florian insisted."

I just scoffed, but I couldn't reply. Instead I asked a question, "How are you alive?"

"What do you mean?"