EITHER WAY
She fell asleep mid-sentence.
Who does that? No one.
No one except her, apparently.
It was just another line on the long list of things that set Faith Morrissey apart. One minute, she’d been telling me about the time her childhood dog, Otto, chased the mailman up a tree in her front yard, and the next, she was passed out cold. I’d had to make a dive for her wine glass, before it slipped from her hand and splintered against the hardwood floor.
I stared down at her on the couch, a smile twisting my lips. Feet tucked up beneath her, she was curled into the cushions like a nesting baby bird. I couldn’t help but smirk when I saw the inspirational message embroidered across the pillow beneath her head.
Be the change you want to see in the world.
Somehow, I was unsurprised to find that in her apartment.
We’d ridden my bike back here after dinner. With a furious blush staining her cheeks, she’d invited me inside for another glass of wine. I think her intentions were to seduce me.
She’d fallen asleep, instead.
Her hair was mussed against the fabric, half-fallen out of its fastenings. A stray red-brown lock fell across her cheekbone. Her eyelashes fluttered as she dreamed. She was snoring lightly, soft breaths slipping through parted lips with each exhale. She’d probably be completely mortified, if she ever found out I’d witnessed her in this state.
She was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.
I moved silently through the condo, taking in the space with critically trained eyes. It was spacious, for student housing. Two separate bedrooms, a shared bathroom, and a full-sized kitchen. Street level, which made me a bit uneasy. I liked to be up high — better vantage points. Not that street level didn’t also have its merits, if you needed to make a quick exit. Any window could be an escape hatch.
I opened one bedroom door and knew instantly that it was Faith’s.
Her scent hit me first — enveloped me like a cloud. She smelled like spring.
Pure.
When my eyes caught up to my other senses, I saw that one accent wall had been painted a bright, cheery yellow. The duvet was dyed a matching canary color, and the throw pillows were overstuffed with fluffy white down. Frankly, I was surprised there were no teddy bears strewn about the bedspread.
The walls were covered with taped-up charcoal sketches — some complete, others barely started. All were good enough to make me question why she was studying history rather than art. She’d captured Budapest with her pencils. Not only monuments and statues. She’d sketched moments, emotions. The harried faces of vendors. The frantic families, rushing from one shop to the next. The Danube at dusk.
There were clothes scattered everywhere. On the floor, on the bed, on the desk chair. I closed my eyes and pictured her here, waiting for me to arrive. Trying on every outfit in her wardrobe, wanting to pick something perfect. She’d been nervous. I made her nervous.
For all the wrong reasons.
This room screamed innocence, goodness, and light. It screamed Faith.
Those bright yellow walls seemed to dim a bit as soon as I stepped over the threshold, as though my very presence saturated the happy space with darkness. The big bad wolf in little Red’s bedroom.
It only took me about thirty seconds to locate her messenger bag, tucked away by her dresser. Thirty more, and I’d slipped the knife from my boot and sliced off one of the front buttons with a swift stroke of my blade. I used my knife tip to make a small incision in the material by the seam. Pulling the small black case from the pocket of my leather jacket, I slid the bag into the middle of the floor and got to work.
I’d done this so often over the last five years, I could probably do it blindfolded. But this time, I found my fingers hesitating as they sewed a tracker into the lining of Faith’s bag. The minuscule device was deceptively powerful, emitting a geolocating ping every few seconds, which would allow me to follow her movements. My chest felt uncomfortably tight as I sewed the seam closed and replaced the round button I’d cut off with a near-identical black sphere so smooth and simple looking, you’d never know it was a camera. The lens was undetectable, unless you had professional training and knew exactly where to look.
I pulled the last stitch and stared at the bag. She’d never notice. But something stopped me from putting it back in place by the dresser. Pinching the bridge of my nose, I closed my eyes and cursed under my breath.
Once I did this, there was no turning back. No more pretending that I was only watching her for her own good. No lying to myself that she wasn’t a mark, that I wasn’t using her.
Nothing I was doing right now had to do with Faith’s safety. If anything, I was putting her life in even more jeopardy. If she got caught with this… if they found this tech on her bag…
She’d be dead.
Because of me.
I tried to tell myself that it didn’t matter.
She’s just another mark.
After this mission, I’ll move on, like I have a million times before.
She’ll be alive or she’ll be dead — it doesn’t mean jack shit to me.
Either way, she’ll never be a part of my life again.
I was a fucking idiot, for letting this girl get to me. I bit the inside of my cheek so hard I drew blood. I wasn’t sure what upset me more — the thought that I’d have to walk away and leave this little fantasy I’d built around Faith behind, or the fact that even the thought of leaving her made my chest ache worse than the time I’d had a lung collapse when a mission had, ironically, gone south in North Korea.
She’ll never be a part of my life again.
It didn’t matter what I told myself — nothing I said would take away the sting of truth in that realization. After the mission was over, I’d have to walk away. Alive or dead, loving or hating me — either way, I’d lose her.
She barely stirred as I carried her into her bedroom and slid her body beneath the yellow comforter. She looked like a little girl, lying there with the covers pulled up to her chin. I wished, for a moment, that she’d never crossed my path. That she’d never have to learn that the world was a fucked up place, full of fucked up people who were experts at hurting one another. I wished that she could stay innocent, unchanged by me or any other bastard who stumbled into her life. And, finally, I wished I was strong enough to walk away before she got even more tangled up in this mess.
Coward.
Mercenary.
Bastard.
Monster.
I turned quickly and headed for the door, not sparing another glance at the bag I’d arranged perfectly in place against her dresser or the girl I was incapable of removing from my life and my thoughts.
For Faith, I was a fatal cancer — I was selfish enough not to care. The little slice of her I stole during this mission would be the only bit I ever got. So I’d be greedy. I’d take it, without question. It would have to tide me over for the rest of my life, when I was alone with only the memory of her to keep the shadows at bay.
I needed to hit something.
Hard.