The Assassin's Assistant

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Eighteen – LUX

I hate feeling useless.

Yet, that was all I felt like; pure and utterly useless. I had been out of commission for roughly two weeks, and it was starting to go to my head. All I could do was sit in my apartment and be useless. The only change I had all day was where I was being useless at. Sometimes it was my bed, sometimes it was the couch, and sometimes I’d just give up while moving from one spot to another and it’d be the floor.

Brittany brought me food every other day, adding to my waste-of-space feeling. She told me she’d been on three missions while I was out, two with Jason. I felt like crap, not only because I wasn’t helping, but because I’d missed about twenty-five grand right there.

Speaking of Brittany, the food she brought me was terrible. For the first week, she brought me all organic, all natural food. When I teased her about it, she started bringing me junk food. I’m literally living off of a diet of chips and soda. My stomach wants to eject itself from me. I’d tell her to stop bringing me the junk, but I’m scared she’d bring dog food instead.

I was on my couch, frying my eyes out from the hours of TV I’d had over the last two weeks or so. The shows were boring and I’d much rather be somewhere else, but I wasn’t allowed to use my leg for at least two more weeks. I could only hop around my apartment with some crutches. My leg didn’t hurt anymore, so I didn’t understand why it was necessary.

A loud jingle interrupted my thoughts. My phone was ringing from the kitchen counter. I scrambled to grab my crutches lying beside me. I pulled myself onto them and hobbled over to where my phone was. It stopped ringing right before I reached it. I fumbled with punching in the lock code while balancing on my crutches. When my phone was finally unlocked, I discovered a message left from the caller. My heart stopped when I heard it.

“A-Audrey? Is this you – is this your number? They told me it was but it could be… I need you. I need your help. I’m still at the same place. Please, Audrey, please come. The money’s run out and I can’t do it on my own. Please.”

It was her. It was the woman who made me what I was. And now, she thinks she can come begging to me for money? The only thing I’d ever pay her would be a punch to the face.

I should have seen it coming sooner or later. She was left all the money in Dad’s will, including control of my school funds. We were never rich. After moving from Salt Lake City, I had lived in the slumps of New York, the bad side. Dad had worked as a taxi driver, though in a more mature age, I have the suspicion that he did a little bit of drug dealing on the side. He would always save a portion of his earnings for me. When I asked him why, he said, “So you can live a better life then me, Drey. I want you to have more than this.” My father had wanted me to go to college, to earn a living. He had saved up that money so that I could get out of there. That woman had just taken it, and along with it, my chances of a normal life. She managed to scrounge up enough money so she wouldn’t have to go to work. Who would hire that psychopath, after all? My mother was normal up until the day he died.

It was when I was six. I was sitting in the living room, looking out the window. I was an odd child. I’d rather gather information through observation than play with multicolored toys. Dad was at his job, and my mother sat at the kitchen table, reading a week old newspaper. The one land line in our home rang out across the room. She trudged her way over to it and answered with a tired “Hello?”

She was silent for a minute, and then let out a horrifying wail. “What is it, mommy?” my six-year old self asked.

Mother let the phone drop to the floor. She fell against the wall, muttering, “No, this can’t be. No, no, Paul… Paul!”