The Program

1

— A New Home —

My Mission: get close to them. Become apart of them. Build relationships. Then, execute them.

"Do you understand the terms of this?" Ms. Simmons asked. "You are committing to a dangerous mission, which could end in an unfortunate way. If failed, you will suffer the consequences. You are the best of the best in our program and you have been chosen for a specific reason. Do you wish to complete this mission?"

I let everything sink in. I fear the consequences, but they know I'm the best. They are confident in my ability.

"I do," I say, sounding as confident as I can.

"Alright," Ms. Simmons says. "Your mission is clear. Appear helpless at their doorstep. They will take you in, and you will build relationships with them. Once y'all fully trust one another, take that opportunity to take out Mr. and Mrs. Reed, frame their children for the awful murder, and receive the money they will surely will to you."

I nod my head. Yes, my mission is clear. However, it won't be easy. From the moment I show up, I have to appear as someone different. Someone I am totally not. The thought of love and kindness disgusts me. From the start, I never knew what love was. As far as I know, my parents didn't want me. That's how I ended up in The Program.

The car rattles as it hits potholes and bumps. The solid black interior is shut off in the back where Mrs. Simmons and I sit. The front, covered by a wall with a closed window, holds a driver.

"Remember," Ms. Simmons says. "Everything you need is packed in your suitcase, but it is limited. It helps frame there story. You must get them to buy more. And one more thing." She reaches in a bag to her left and pulls out my phone. "This one is used for all the social media and entertainment you're going to want to have." She pulls out a flip phone and says, "This one is used for calling me and The Program only. Do you understand?"

"Yes ma'am," I reply. I slip the flip phone into my pocket, and turn on my phone. I click on the camera to view myself. My blond hair is fixed into a mess and a small amount of dirt sits on my face.

"We are almost at the home, so you must prepare," Ms. Simmons says. She pulls out a small knife. "Either you can do this, or I can. Create a small cut above your right eyebrow."

I grab the knife from her. "I'm not two."

I use my camera to view myself as I create a slit in my face. Blood drips from the wound, slithering down my cheek. I hand the knife back to Ms. Simmons, and she wipes the blood off with her handkerchief.

The car comes to a stop and my stomach starts to turn a little. I take deep breaths as Ms. Simmons stares at me. She doesn't move. I grab my small suitcase from the ground and slowly open the car door. I step out to view a nice, modern, suburban home. Two stories and very wide. I take in the beauty I've never had as the car drives off silently.

The brick is a dark brown, windows all around on it. I walk closer to the large white door. My stomach turns even more, but there is no going back now. I have no way back to what I call my home.

I step to the door and raise my hand.

Knock, knock, knock.

Game on.

•—•

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