American Assassins

Chapter 3: Kimberley

                “Yes,” I reassure him politely like my mom and dad taught me.  “Thank you Logan.”

                He grins kindly and walks out the door and we are left alone in the bathroom.  I take off my nightgown and underwear and hop in the tub, the bubbles were also changing color along with the water.  Ronnie strips off her clothes and jumps in with me as well.  “Turn around,” I say twirling her so she wasn’t facing me.  She dunks her head in the water getting it bubbly and wet.  I take a bottle that said shampoo and run it through her hair. I make sure to get all the dirt and mud out of it.  It is so tangled and disgusting I could barf, luckily I don’t.  I dunk her hair under water again.

  I decide to try and figure out how to turn on the shower head.  It isn’t hard, there is a button on the remote that simply says showerhead below it. I press it and the shower comes on.  I use that to get the rest of the gunk out.  Then I allow Ronnie to repeat the processes I just did on me.  I run conditioner through her head and she did it to me.  I find wash cloths and towels under the sinks and we use the cloths to scrub of the layer of oil and dirt from our skins. 

By the time we are done the bathtub is partly back and gross looking.  I wrap Ronnie in a towel while I use another one to dray of her brown, highlighted hair.  I did the same to my own as I wrapped a towel around me.  I rub the towel over my face and look in the long mirror on the wall over both sinks.  My eyes were puffy and my body was clean.  I looked at Ronnie who was waiting for me.  I sigh and take her hand. 

We walk out in the living room and two garments are folded on the bed.  One is smaller than the other, so I give that one to Ronnie.  It is simple, a white night gown with white shorts and underwear, mine is the same.  I look down at myself in the new clothes.  White means purity and peace.  White is the color of everything that peaceful in this world. I get angry, nothing in my life is pure, and nothing in my life has ever been peaceful.  I grunt and run straight to the kitchen and find a sharp, tipped knife.  Ronnie came over with me; I didn’t care if she watched.  I point the tip of the knife into my under wrist and push it in deeper.  I slice the knife about a half inch or an inch down my wrist and made a loop at the top of the line. Then a secound line under the loop. It hurts, like needles stinging into me but I don’t cry.  I look at the letter on my arm. 

R              

“Why did you do that?”  Ronnie gasps scared.  I look down at her and wash the blood off in the sink.  It stings and I hiss because of the pain but still don’t cry.  I look at my newly form scar on my left wrist.  I then take the knife again and made a circle below the R. It is connected by the R’s diagonal line.  I wash that one off as well, and then show it to Ronnie.  She flinched as I show her my new scars.  I point to the R, “This one stands for two things. The first is for revenge, always reminding me to take revenge on our father for killing our mother.  I will find him one day.  The second one is for you, Ronnie.  It will always remind me to protect you no matter what happens, you are my sister and I couldn’t live without you.”  

She’s silent for a moment then points to the O connecting it.  I point at it as well, “This O stands for Outcasts.  I will always be one now; I will always be an outcast.  Nothing is pure anymore, nothing is just white.  It’s red, anger and hurt.  My life is not white . . . it’s red.”

Ronnie’s eyes grow wide with fear.  I loosen my anger a little and wrap my arms around her.  “I’m sorry, I’m sorry this happened.”  I feel her arms wrap around me tightly.  I lift up my arm with the scars on it.  I look hard and long at it then sigh I sigh and put it down. I look at the digital clock on the table by the bed.  5:00a.m., “Alright time to get some sleep finally.”  I whisper to Ronnie.  I wipe a tear away from her eye and lead her over to the bed.  She crawls in and I pull the covers over her.  She looks up at me with sad eyes.  I pause for a moment then kiss her on the head.  “Night,” I finally say.  She doesn’t ask me when I’m going to bed but I watch her eyes get droopy and soon hear her soft breaths, indicating that she is asleep. 

I stay up for a bit waiting to see when Logan will return.  About 6:00 I hear the door open and he walks in.  He shuts it quietly and finds me sitting on a chair on the side of the bed. 

“Why are you still up,” he smiles. 

“Waiting for you,” I answer.  “The bath was nice, and the maid left us these-“I take part of my nightgown with both hands and show it to him.  Suddenly his face expression changes and he grabs my left arm.  I try to pull back but he rolls it over to the side with the scars. 

“What-what is this?” He looks at me, concern in his face, scared almost.  I sigh, “They’re scars, scars that will always remind me of who I am and what I must do.”  I told him what they stood for and his face doesn’t change. 

“Kimberley, your nine years old, you’re not just going back out there to take revenge.  An army is waiting on both our borders.  Either way is a death trap.  Your father is probably protected by the Union government.  If you want to get revenge you must train.”

I run his voice over in my head again and cross my arms.  “So, what you’re saying is  . . . ”

“Yes, one day you may face your father in battle, I’m not saying take ‘revenge’ but I’m not saying don’t kill him.  You better get some sleep.  I will arrange for you to spend the day with me so you know where to go and what’s happening.  Breakfast is usually at eight o’clock but I’ll bring some up for you two when you wake up.”  He pauses, “What do you like, anything in particular?”

I shake my head, “Whatever you got will be fine, but Ronnie likes pancakes and sausage.  She likes her pancakes with whipped cream and strawberries.  Any type of fruit will be good for me and bacon or sausage.  I also like eggs and toast.”  He nods and tucks me into bed. 

“Alright, don’t feel like you have to get up in the morning but I might wake you up if you sleep in too late.”  I grin and look around the room.  “Something wrong?”  Logan asks me.

I look down at the ground, “I just can’t believe that earlier tonight I was being kissed by my mother and being tucked in by my warm bed.  I remember holding onto my stuffed husky, his name was Shadow.  I wish I had him now.”  I hold my arms close to my chest in a self-hug.  I feel Logan rub my side in a comforting manner, trying to assure me everything will be alright.  He whispers goodnight and walks around the corner and out the door.  Before he leaves I stare at the scars on my wrist.  Hard to believe I think again.  I clench my hand into a fist and soon drift off to sleep next to my sister.