A final flash, and I’m standing in a grand hall with a handful of other young adults. We are the survivors. We are lethal weapons, broken and rebuilt to serve the gods. We are walking death. The old men in the crowd applaud us like they are proud of the monsters they’ve created.
I gasp when I come out of the flashbacks and find myself crumpled up on the shower floor, heaving for air. My head is pounding, and I can already feel a lump starting just above my left ear.
Silver lining, I did not die from falling in the shower. Wouldn’t that just be a poetic death, though? Chased by an immortal ex-boyfriend with control issues and then killed by the violent return of his ex-girlfriend’s memories.
But the distraction of a head injury (I’m starting a collection) isn’t long-lived enough for me to ignore what I just saw. My heart aches for Cassandra. For everything she survived.
I guess neither of us had or is having a particularly easy life. Maybe there’s a god that’s angry with our soul. Maybe they are ensuring it’s caught in an endless loop of suffering.
I knew I wasn’t their favorite.
Pulling myself back up, I try to focus on getting clean. Getting hit by Cassandra’s memories was jarring. I need to find a way to control them, so that they aren’t playing on loop in my head. Otherwise, the mental trauma merry-go-round is going to drive me to insanity.
Resorting to old faithful, I shove her memories into the boxes in my head reserved for my own trauma. Cassandra’s memories are going to fit in great.
When I leave the washroom, I’m taken aback when I notice a pile of stuff on my bed.
Someone was in here when I was showering. My door is still locked.
Creepy.
I’m going to tell myself it was Rosie.
Lying to myself is a new hobby of mine.
Warily, I pad over to the bed and examine the new additions. There are two small swords, a dagger, at least a dozen throwing knives, and a sheath that fits both swords in an ‘x’ across my back. There’s another sheath that looks like it might fit over my thigh. There are also some new clothes – fighting leathers, along with a pair of boots, tucked neatly under the bed.
My fingers trace along the sharp edge of a blade, and I’m struck by the instant recognition. These all look like things Cassandra once wore while working missions for the Guardians. Short flashes pulse through my mind again, showing me how she worked as an assassin.
I remain upright this time and count that as a win.
I swallow down my unease at the thought that my soul was once a trained killer. This is a judgement-free zone. Cassandra might be dead, but the least I can do is not shame her for doing what she needed to survive.
I figure the outfit is better than the leggings and tank tops I’ve been wearing for a few days. Especially when there are psychopaths out there who like to go around harassing their kidnap victims.
Getting dressed, I’m struck by the realization that I never once hesitated when adjusting the fighting gear. It’s like my subconscious brain is tapping into Cassandra’s memories.
That is promising.
I thought it would feel weird to be decked out in weapons, but instead, it’s comforting. It feels good to be holding blades. For the first time in my life, I don’t feel completely defenseless.
That thought is enough to arm me with a new ‘fight the supernatural bad guys or die trying attitude.’
Am I sure who the bad guys are anymore?
No.
I’m still leaning towards the ‘everyone is evil, and please leave me and my realm alone’ school of thought.
Except Leon isn’t going to leave me alone. If Damien’s letter is any indication, Leon was livid about losing me, and now I have an idea of what he’s capable of when he’s in that headspace.
My stomach twists. I need to know more about my past relationship with Leon to learn if there is something I can use to change his mind.
This time, I have the foresight to sit on my bed before I close my eyes and try to bring up Cassandra’s memories of Leon. I’m not sure if this is like selecting a chapter from a table of contents or if I need to start digging, but before I can overthink this process to the absolute maximum, I’m hit with more memories.
The Guardians must be stopped. I realized their true monstrous nature when I found a group of teachers trying to sexually assault a child. I knew it was acommon occurrence, but I couldn’t stand by. I murdered them and took the child. Her name is Arianna.
We fled to my home temple in Atlantis, but I knew I couldn’t stay hidden while other children suffered at their hands. It’s been years since I turned against the organization, and I’ve been hunting Guardians ever since. I save every child I find, bringing them here and promising revenge.
