Strategy

CANDY CANES

"This is all so classy" "I wish life was as smooth as this jet damn." 

I wondered whether this was all for real as I reclined back on my seat. They've never treated me this way. Is this mafia mission such an important thing or what? Agents only get a jet on their 50th mission, and this is only my 40th. 

"Ma'am." I heard someone call me by my side.

"Yeah?" 

"What would you like to have?" She asked me, as she pushed a trolley in front of me. It had a variety of foods and some candies. I still can't believe it's all real and here comes the VIP treatment. 

But my happiness wasn't long-lasting.  As I scoured the trolley for something I would love to have, I noticed a particular candy. The kind that gives me nightmares? Yeah the very kind. 

CANDY CANES..

And suddenly,  the migraines hit me right back. All the feels, the memories, everything flooded back with such intensity, that I yelled my lungs out. 

Memories don't hurt, do they? Well mine do. This candy, I remember holding it the day I shot her. The day I shot my cellmate, or an agent project as they used to call her. 

I was a monster, but I would never shoot a human over a candy. I could still hear her screams echoing around in my heart. I could still see the blood staining her cell clothes red. I could still remember her emotionless eyes as she collapsed to the ground. 

That candy, was a sign of death. The day they made me kill my first target. I remember holding it so tight, that my hands bled from it's broken fragments. I remember crying for days and days, with just a piece of the candy cane she had handed me. I had been so lonely,  but then she came into my life, a between the bars kind of friendship.  

She knew I liked candy canes, and I remember the day she passed a candy cane through the bars. I didn't know where she got it from, but that was the thing I held, as I shot her. I still remember her telling me to shoot her and get over with it. I remember how she begged for me to just take her life and not let her suffer. 

That was my first kill. My best friend. At the age of 8. 

I woke up with a neck pillow, but I did not remember falling asleep. But I did know one thing. The demons have started their job again.

Everyone thinks I'm an emotionless monster, a demoness, but how can I be that when my inner demons don't let me be myself? Each one of the passports i have, with different identities? All of them made a different person out of me. It's like they cut my soul into tiny pieces, and shred those pieces tinier. 

But now it's too late. To be thinking about it all. I'm Agent 001. Nothing else matters. Or does it?