Blacklist [h.s]

nine

Grace

In seconds, my nightmare resumes. 

Kirby gives me an ominous smile and returns to his position behind me. I feel something sharp poke into my shoulder, then my entire body is on fire. And I'm screaming. 

"There's a nerve cluster just below the shoulder," he said. "Immense pain." 

His voice is deep and husky and way too close to my ear for comfort. I was winded and struggling to take a deep breath through the sobs racking my body, screaming so loud that somebody has to hear me.

I feel defeated again. And at this moment, I'm convinced that I'm going to die. Convinced that the pain writhing through me right now would be the worst of it all. Convinced that the only people who will miss me are Harry and Cooper, and even then it's not going to be by much. 

The thought makes me sob harder. I've lived 24 years and have nothing to show but a shitty apartment with a creepy neighbor across the hall and neighbors downstairs who call the cops on me for no good reason. That's what I have to my name. No friends, no partner, not a fucking soul to stand up at my funeral and vouch for me. 

No eulogy, no sobs at my funeral, no remembrance, no flowers on my grave. Nothing. 

And there's no way anybody knows where I am, not even Harry who knows everything. 

Kirby walks around so he faces me. He tucks a strand of my hair behind my ear and frowns, sending shivers down my body. 

"I am so sorry for this," he sighs. Kirby turns around and begins pouring more liquids into the tub in front of me. I stare at it blankly, watching as my life disappears with every liquid he pours into the tub. 

"What are you doing?" 

Kirby stops again to look up at me. "I am drawing you a bath," He chuckles quietly. "An FBI agent, gone rogue, left the country, unable to be located." 

I can't sob any harder. I wish that I was away from here, I wish I had gone into nursing or journalism or law school for fucks sake. Why here, why me?

I'm not religious. Hell,  I haven't been to church or prayed to God since my freshman year of high school. However, right now I was praying to God. Praying to God to have mercy on my miserable life.

I pass out from the pain before I can say Amen. 

-

Harry

It upsets me that I can't recognize the man standing at the back of the car. He is tall and looks older, but I can't make out any distinguishing facial features or marks to get an idea of who he is. I do notice the license plate number whenever he hurries into the front seat and speeds off. I pull my phone from my pocket and dial my mate Oscar. He answers after one ring. 

"Hey Harry, what's the need?" he asks gleefully on the other end. His glee annoys me sometimes, but other times it puts me in a better mood. Now was not one of those times. 

"Plate number A45T8U," I mumble to him. I am walking down the cleared out court hallways, my phone pressed to my ear as agents rush passed me. I can hear the clank of keyboard keys as he types in the plate number and something else after. 

"Kirby Tuscon, age 62. Chemical engineer. He works at..." he pauses for a moment. "Uh, Harry, who is this guy?" 

"I don't really have time to explain right now," I tell him as I pick up my pace down the hallway. "Just tell me what you have." 

"He worked for that Agents dad until he was fired last year." I furrow my eyebrows in confusion. I worked for him and I hadn't heard his name come up yet. 

"Doing what?" I ask as I push open the heavy door, the sunlight beaming in my eyes. I squint from the brightness, barely seeing Agent Cooper standing in front of me. 

I stop dead in my tracks when he answers. "Getting rid of people." 

I hang up the phone immediately, Cooper looks at me with a concerned look on his face. "We don't know where Agent Tyl-" he starts to say, but I interrupt him. 

"I do, come on." 

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Short little update for you guys!! I've been so surprised by the amount of love this story is getting. I'm thinking about changing the cover, thoughts??