Yours Truely, The Terrorist

Chapter 2

When I was young, I had grown up believing that the world was a peaceful place. A place where everyone was kind and selfless. A place where everyone was happy.

But I was proven wrong, by the world itself.

At the age of ten, I was involved in a robbery.

Men whose faces were covered with black cloths broke down our flimsy door and took all our money; not that there were much to begin with. But we had needed that money. My family had never been rich, and just having three meals a day had been a hardship for us. So obviously we didn’t live in a house with good security, or a house in a good neighborhood. I still remember how I had screamed when the men punched my father, and searched my parents’ drawers.

At the age of thirteen, I witnessed a murder for the first time.

I had been walking home from school when I saw two people struggling. Even from quite a distance, it had been easy for me to tell that the bigger, taller man was mugging the shorter, weaker man. But as I stood there, standing still, as helpless as any young girl without a cell-phone, the bigger man became impatient.

I had watched, unable to move, unable to scream, as the taller man plunged the knife in, and then out of the shorter man's body before he crumbled to the dirty cement below. And I still hadn't moved an inch, even after I watched the red blood glisten on the silver blade, even after I watched the taller man just walk away with the now dead man's wallet.

At the age of sixteen, I had experienced a sexual assault. It had been a male classmate, who dragged me into the school bathroom, after sports, when everyone else was long gone. I had only been able to run away with what was left of my dignity because of a very well-aimed kick.

So you must see why, that through my eyes, the world is a deranged, dark, place. And why I believe strongly, that trust is not something to be given out easily.

Starting high school, I had worked my butt off. I poured sweat and blood into everything, until I managed to enter a good university on full-scholarship.

And then I formed my crew, Check Mate soon after.

It was almost ironic, I thought, as I leant back in my black office chair, that my job was a psychologist.

If there was anyone who needed psychotherapy, it was me without a doubt.

But everyone in the group needed a front-job, a job that they could actually tell their friends about. Logically speaking, it would never be wise to tell someone that you were part of a terrorist group who was trying to make the world a better place.

And a psychologist just happened to be a great choice for me for two reasons – it was mostly where people came to give Check Mate a job, and it was where I gained half of my information.

I sat up and uncrossed my legs when I heard a knock on my door.

“Ms. Moss? Mr. Wickins is here.” My secretary, Nina Leaves said; as she cracked the previously closed door open.

I put down my half-eaten bagel and suppressed a frown. Nina knocking meant business, but I was still hungry.

“Mr. Wickins does not have a meeting scheduled for today.”

I replied, as I inched my hand back towards my lunch.

“Ask him to come back on Wednesday, when he actually has a scheduled visit.”

Nina bobbed her head apologetically, causing her honey locks to swish.

“I’m sorry Ms. Moss, but he insists that it is an emergency. That it is very important.”

I sighed before nodding reluctantly.

“Let him in,” I told her, mentally saying goodbye to the bagel and my untouched salad.

As Nina Leaves left to return to her place at the front desk, a slender man walked in.

David Wickins, my patient of more than a year.

He had dark brown hair that was stylishly messy, and wore square framed glasses. David would have been a attractive man if it wasn’t for the fact that his eyes always darted around nervously, and the fact that he wringed his hand and flinched every time he heard a “threatening” noise.

I gestured for him to sit down in one of the black leather couches in the spacious room, and he obliged.

Anxious green eyes surveyed me, and I smiled encouragingly.

“Mr. Wickins, how do you do?”

I sat down on the chair across from him.

When he didn’t reply immediately, I spoke instead, filling in the heavy silence.

“You have something important to tell me Mr. Wickins? Something so important you could not wait until Wednesday?”

David’s head snapped up looking ashamed.

“Although I must say I am quite pleased to have you again so soon,” I quickly added, smiling at him.

David nodded nervously, before looking around as if to check if anyone was listening in.

I didn’t bother telling him the room was soundproofed, and had security cameras that only I was aware about. It would only cause him more panic, and also ruin the whole point of only me knowing.

“I, uh, someone has been following me.”

I mentally sighed before writing on the lined loose-leaf paper. A word that I seemed to always be writing when David came to visit me.

Paranoia.

“It’s a, uh, man, and he started following me yesterday.”

I underlined the word twice, before glancing at the ornate black clock that hung on one of the white-washed walls in the room. How long was this going to take?

“Okay.” I nodded, telling David to continue.

“But the really scary thing is, Ms. Moss, he stopped me this morning.”

I paused, raising an eyebrow at David who was now sweating, and fidgeting nervously.

“Oh really? How frightening.”

Now this was different. It was real.

Unless David’s hallucinations had intensified since his last visit, which was only last week.

David continued, rushing with his words as he nodded vigorously.

“The man, he uh, stopped me, and pushed me up against a building, and started asking me questions.”

I felt myself grip the pen, and it snapped from the pressure. I tried not to look surprised. David’s jaw dropped, and he stared at my hand which dripped ink onto the black carpet below.

“Woops,” I whispered.

David’s eyes were still round from shock, but he nodded, deciding that it was simply a harmless mistake.

“Please continue.”

I forced myself to smile at the fretting man.

David leaned towards me, and began to whisper.

“He asked me if I knew about you, Ms. Moss.”

I felt myself freeze at his next words.

“He asked me, if I knew about… Check Mate.”

My heart proceeded to stop beating.

*** Hello Everyone, sorry if it's kind of slow, but I just wanted to show why Cynthia does what she does... I know the scene changed rapidly from the first one to this one, but all shall be explained as I slowly write along...

PLEASE PLEASE comment and vote!! Your comments tell me what I lack, and also provide inspiration. Thank you for reading! -Candy