The woman who killed before.
When I was eleven years old.
Because of my father.
My father, who was in the mafia.
Everything was a lie.
Everythingisa lie.
My entire life is a lie.
And I don’t even know who I am.
There is no going back.
I killed someone.
Everything I worked so hard for studying, and now I have become one of the people I studied.
What have I done?
“You studied criminology to make this world a better place,” says Kat. “That’s the reason.”
Kat. The woman who abducted and tortured me, yet she saved me from Rosalia. I somehow trust her the most. If I were to profile myself, I’d say it’s a severe case of capture bonding. And while I have all the knowledge, I can’t do anything about it. Because knowing and acting are two entirely different things.
“And how do you know that?” I ask without removing my eyes from Rosalia.
“I found the application for the NCA,” says Kat. It takes me a moment to process her words, but when I do, I turn on her, gun drawn.
“Who the fuck are you, that you have fucking access to private documents sent to the UK’s national crime agency?” I ask.
Kat smirks.
“I have access to the largest and most dangerous predatory software in the world,” she says. “My lovely wife developed it, and I am ridding the world of assholes. Assholes that are hiding in plain sight and high places.”
“A woman who tortures me is riding the world of assholes,” I repeat. “The hypocrisy is appalling.”
“There’s nuance,” she says. “The question is if your will to do good is stronger than the will to kill her,” says Kat and points with her head at Rosalia.
Rosalia.
I turn back to her.
My free hand clenches into a fist, my nails digging painfully into my palm.
“She is the reason for all that happened to me,” I say. “My life is a mess because of her.“
“No,” says Kat. “Your life is a mess because of your father; this is just the aftermath.”
My gun-hand trembles in anger.
“Giuseppe would have gotten to you anyway,” Kat says. “Hemeant you to take over; this must’ve been planned a long while ago. He would have gotten to you and raped you until you would be pregnant with his heir.”
“What a consolation,” I say harshly. Hearing this sounds so absurd. Everything is so absurd. I have no idea what I am doing here. I have nowhere to go because hell will follow me everywhere. I did things I cannot outrun. I want my life back, my normal life with my anxiety and the boringness of it.
A tear rolls down my cheek as my heart aches for the life I had. How could everything become so messed up within the matter of a week?
