Born For This (F.S)

1. reflections

Freya P.O.V

Sometimes I want to run away. Sometimes I do. I buy a plane ticket to an island of some sort and escape for a few days knowing that when I come back I'll never hear the end of it. That never stops me though but I realize now that escaping at times won't be an option.

To do what my parents do I have to fully commit or otherwise I'm dead. Many have told me I'm stupid for not choosing to different than they did but I see no other option for me. I tried hard over the years to get interested in something else that wasn't what they did. None of it ever stuck but the first time I shot a gun to help my family escape when we were ambushed on vacation. Had that incident never happened I would probably still be lost.

Grandma Anne had rounded all of us grandkids up and we were off to Greece for the summer. I was 17, Blythe 16, the twins, and Thomas were 11. We had two weeks of normality before shit happened. Someone paid off one of the guards for our location in hopes to kidnap us in exchange for our parents to give up certain territories. After a heated fight between our guards and the kidnappers we lost many men and I'm pretty sure they would have gotten us. I don't know what it was in me because at that point I'd never shot a gun in my life. Had I seen them? Plenty.

I just knew that the only thing between my family and those men was luck because it was just a matter of seconds. Against my grandma's wishes I went out of hiding in the panic room and went to load up. I had no idea if it was going to work out but I knew the house better than any of those fuckers did.

The first time I killed a man I did it but knocking him in the back of the head with a very thick vase. I'd seen my mother do that years prior so that's where that came from. He didn't stay dead at first but he was very pissed off once he saw who did the assault. I snapped knowing that if I didn't take it all the way that I was going to regret ever leaving that room. So before he stood up I took his gun, demanded to know who wanted us and when I got my answer, a clean shot between his forehead.

I didn't feel guilty or disgusted with myself. I felt free in an odd way. I felt like I finally discovered who I was and my purpose. So after that moment I strategically got rid of the rest of the guys taking a few slaps and hits myself. I did it though and I knew that I was born for this.

After that incident my mother forced me to go into a hospital because she thought I was damaged. Not in a bad way though. I think she thought that this lifestyle and being in it since I was young had broken me. She couldn't look at me in the face for the longest time. Our relationship changed forever after that and on my end I took it hard. I felt like I showed her who I was and what I could be capable of but when my mother didn't embrace it with open arms. I felt rejected. I started to drift away and she did too. We never really talked about it again but I waited until I was half way to 19 before mentioning I wanted to do what they did. Of course both parents reacted very, very negatively but I was determined.

I moved out with the pretense of wanting to go to college and see if I was away for bit things would change. That was never the plan of course but I said what I needed too so I could get out of the house. Once I was quite always from them I started taking classes.

The first place I went to was Tokyo where I learned various styles of fighting. I also learned how to kill people without needing a weapon and that first summer away...I killed a lot of people. Only bad people though, those who deserved it. Being so good at it made me want to learn more but I needed to do more than just taking out petty criminal. I needed to get insight from someone who knew the business and how it worked.

That's where Zayn came in and when our "sexual" relationship began. At first he didn't want anything to do with it but I managed to convince him. After some time I also got him to take me along for some of his jobs so that I could see for myself. So that I could be prepared the next time I spoke to my parents about it. I needed to be more than prepared.