Ashes of Merciless

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Ashes of Merciless Page 4

by Odette Michael


  He spun around and faced me, and familiar ice trickled through my veins. Ash squirmed with delight inside of me at the turn of the conversation, and I clamped my lips shut so she couldn’t burst through and ask him for the gory details she craved.

  I turned back to the table and saved the half-finished essay before closing the laptop. I went to my locker and stuffed the laptop inside. As I walked past Gage, I murmured a quiet apology and left the classroom.

  I headed toward the living quarters so I could change into my training clothes, but then I heard footsteps behind me.

  “Ashley, wait. I’m sorry. You only wanted to help, I know that.” Gage’s hand grazed my forearm ever so slightly.

  I shivered. I remembered the blue-eyed boy touching me, and my mind whirled. Being touched twice in one day? The night sky had probably turned hot pink as well.

  Before I could turn to Gage, the door to the Evaluator’s office down the hall opened. An elderly man with a gray beard emerged, his kind eyes bright as they focused on me.

  “Ah, Ashley! Just the person I was about to go looking for. You didn’t forget your appointment again, did you now?”

  My hand went to my forehead, my fingers digging into the skin. “Was that today? I’m sorry, I did forget,” I lied.

  The Evaluator chuckled, and I noticed him looking at Gage’s hand on my arm. Embarrassed, I pulled away because it wasn’t like that.

  In about six years, Gage would be married to a woman he’d have no say in choosing. I had even longer, so my marriage was something I tried not to think about too much. Who knew if I would even live that long? After all, the arranged marriage had worked out for my parents. As much as I didn’t like the Master, I couldn’t picture him putting me with someone I absolutely would not be compatible with.

  “See you later,” I said to Gage without turning around.

  The Evaluator gestured to his office, and I followed him inside.

  Chapter 4 Evaluated

  As soon as the Evaluator closed the door, panic threatened to overtake me. Had Ariel said something?

  I breathed deeply, immediately calming myself. If that were the case, I’d be in the Master’s office instead of the Evaluator’s.

  I went to my usual spot, the bean bag chair in the corner—it was the farthest away from the Evaluator’s chair. His office had more plants than a forest, and it was the warmest room in Headquarters due to the heating lamps everywhere.

  I sat down and tried to move the leaves of a fern out of my face.

  The Evaluator sat in his rocking chair and smiled warmly at me. He reached down and picked up a small rectangular device, clicking it on.

  I flinched at the sight of the tape recorder. When I’d first asked about the tape recorder, he’d said it was for him to review after the session and that it was only to help him help us.

  But I knew the truth. The Master had to know everything.

  “So, Ashley, how are you doing?” This was the question he always started with.

  I smacked the fern away again. This was where I had to be the most cautious.

  No one could ever know.

  “Fine,” I replied. He wouldn’t expect me to say anything else.

  “Is there anything at all you want to talk about? Anything bothering you?”

  “Nope,” I said. The fern hit me in the face again. This time, I reached out and broke a stem. I fanned myself with it, a small satisfaction resting in my belly.

  The Evaluator’s lips twitched with obvious amusement. “Ashley, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t mutilate my plants.”

  I gestured around the room. “It’s a jungle in here. You’ll be all right if one plant isn’t perfect.”

  The Evaluator shrugged. “I don’t see the sun very often. Call these a replacement for the outside world.”

  That made sense, and I felt guilty. I put the piece of fern on the ground.

  “Sorry,” I mumbled.

  He shook his head, a small smile on his face. “How’s Ruth doing?” he asked.

  My guilt evaporated, and I stared at him with narrowed eyes.

  “Ok, then. Back to you.”

  I sighed dramatically. “Everything’s just peachy. Is something supposed to be wrong? What do you want from me?”

  The Evaluator stared at me for the longest time, and then he did something he’d never done before. He reached down to the tape recorder and switched it off. I looked at him, confused.

  “Ashley, I meet with every single member in Merciless. Obviously, you Assassins have more appointments than others. And I have to say, you are the only person who has never given me the slightest hint as to what’s going on in your head. I can only speculate, and whatever is troubling you is getting worse the older you become. I can’t help you if you don’t let me,” he said.

  I sank deeper into the chair. “How do you know something is even wrong? I told you, I’m fine. Fit as a fiddle. Healthy as a horse and all that.”

  “I know something’s wrong because I’m a doctor, and wisdom really does come with age. I know something’s wrong because you first killed someone when you were only thirteen, and when I look into your eyes, all I can see is a silent cry for help.”

  I crossed my arms over my chest. “I. Said. I’m. Fine.”

  He continued to stare at me. “The recorder is off, Ashley. It’s just me and you. Let me help you, please.”

  I sighed again and picked up the piece of fern. I busied myself tearing the plant into shreds while my mind raced.

  He’d turned the recorder off. Maybe I could tell him? Not the whole truth, obviously, but maybe just enough to where I could have a vague idea of what was wrong with me?

  “Go ahead. Spill the beans. I’m warning you, it won’t end well.”

  My fingers froze for a split second, and then I continued shredding.

  “Why? Afraid he knows how to get rid of you?” I asked her inside my head.

  Ash snickered, and it vibrated throughout my ears. “Don’t be an idiot. You and I both know I’m not going anywhere.”

  “Maybe I can find a way to make you leave.”

  “You may not want to believe this, but you need me.”

  I went numb. “That is not true. You’re going to ruin me. Take me over forever and—”

  “Ashley?”

  I sucked in a breath as I realized I wasn’t sitting anymore. I was standing, my hand at my forehead, with sweat dripping down my temple. I was disoriented, like I’d been snapped out of a dream.

  I shuddered and sat back down. “I’m sorry. Sometimes I get . . . jumpy,” I said, stumbling through the words.

  The Evaluator nodded. “Ok, that’s a start. And what do you think makes you that way? Is there a certain trigger you’ve noticed? Are you having flashbacks?”

  “Um . . .” I wasn’t sure what was safe to say.

  “It’s ok. Take your time.”

  “I have to go train.”

  “I’ve seen you train. One missed day won’t dampen your skills, I assure you.”

  “The Master doesn’t allow skipped sessions,” I reminded him.

  “The Master will understand,” he assured me.

  I was going to argue, but decided against it. “Ok, then. Can I ask you a question?”

  “Of course,” he said eagerly.

  “What would happen if someone in Merciless was . . . not right in the head?”

  “You mean a mental illness?” he asked.

  “Yeah, sure. Whatever you want to call it,” I said, slightly irritated.

  “Well, I would try to help them. There are many therapy techniques and medications available to treat mental disorders. Obviously, I’m not going to give you any names, but there are quite a number of members under medicinal treatment.”

  “So you just hand out pills, and it all goes away?” Butterflies floated around my stomach, but I just couldn’t picture a little pill making Ash go away. Could it really be that easy?

  “No . . . not exactly. There’s really
no definite cure-all for most mental illnesses. That’s why it’s called treatment. When a member is diagnosed with a mental illness, sessions are increased, and as long as the problem is under reasonable control and won’t hinder Merciless duties, everything is fine.”

  The butterflies turned to ice. “Hinder Merciless duties? What do you mean by that?” I asked.

  “Some cases are more extreme than others. For example, diagnosing a member with depression. Depression is actually very common, and it is easily treatable. Someone with depression might want to stay in bed all day and sleep their life away, but that won’t necessarily put Merciless in danger of discovery or hinder Assignments, if given proper treatment. Now, say a member has something like dissociative identity disorder, and they hear voices and have an altered consciousness. Obviously, you wouldn’t send them off to Observe someone or Seal a contract even with the proper treatment. It’s considered too risky by Merciless standards,” he explained.

  The ice butterflies hurt. “So . . . if someone was hearing a voice in their head, what would happen to them? Would they be discharged?”

  The Evaluator looked at me carefully. “No. No one is ever discharged, you know that. You also know what happens when a member retires?”

  “Of course. Their child replaces their spot once the child turns eighteen. Then they go to the private mountain retreat or to the beach resort that Merciless owns, and they live out the rest of their days. Monitored, I’m sure,” I said impatiently.

  “Yes. Or they stay here and work on the farm, which many members actually prefer. And in the case you’re speaking of, the member would be relieved of current duties and then sentenced to the farm.”

  “Sentenced? You make it sound like the person would be a prisoner,” I said, my words hollow in my ears.

  The Evaluator shrugged. “Perspective. I suppose you’re correct in a way. The person could never leave the farm.”

  “Ever?” I felt sick.

  “Is there something you’d like to tell me, Ashley?”

  Stomach Steady. I needed a lot of Stomach Steady.

  “Do you have any Stomach Steady?” I blurted out.

  The Evaluator raised an eyebrow and reached into his pocket. He pulled out a set of keys and went to the large safe behind his desk, unlocking it and fishing around for a bit.

  I concentrated on breathing in and out with steady breaths until he came to me with the familiar bottle. I took it gratefully and chugged a generous gulp.

  “Take this, too,” he said.

  I looked skeptically at the small white bottle in his hand.

  “What is it?” I asked suspiciously.

  “It’s for anxiety. Take one whenever you feel panicky, but not before or during an Assignment, as it can impair judgment and make you dizzy or sleepy.”

  “And is that your diagnosis of me? Anxiety?” I asked him, still staring at the white bottle.

  “You’ve had anxiety for a long time now, but you’ve always refused treatment. Remember when you were younger and you used to spit out the pills I made you take?” he asked.

  “I remember more the needles in my arm that made me a zombie,” I snapped.

  “You weren’t well after Richard died or after your Assignments started. But you’re now the best Assassin we have. Your father would be proud of you.”

  “Would he now?” I hissed.

  The Evaluator put his hand on my shoulder. “I’m sorry if saying that upset you. I am not your enemy, Ashley.”

  I jerked away, stunned. Why was everybody touching me today? I didn’t mind Gage’s touch, but everybody else could go screw themselves.

  He sighed and shook the bottle at me. “Please take these. They will help more than the Stomach Steady, I promise you.”

  I stood up and shook my head. “No thanks. I don’t want anything that’s going to hinder my judgment.”

  He studied me for a moment. “It’s not alcohol. It won’t do that to you. I know you have some . . . prejudices against medicine because of your mother’s alcohol abuse, but I assure you—ˮ

  “That’s not it!” I said, exasperated.

  The Evaluator’s eyes hardened. “Isn’t it? Take the bottle, Ashley. It’s not an option.”

  I snatched the bottle out of his hand and stamped to the door.

  Not an option. When did I ever have an option about anything?

  “Session is not over yet,” he called to me.

  “Oh, yes it is,” I said over my shoulder as I closed the door. “Annoying, prying old man,” I mumbled under my breath as I made my way to the living quarters.

  The living quarters consisted of another long hallway with rooms across from one other like a hotel, and there was a large bathing facility at the end of the hallway. Tapestries in various shades of purple and red lined the stone walls along with dim lamps to light the way.

  I headed straight for the female bathroom, blinking at the lights that were much brighter here. A large marble counter with six sinks lined one wall, and multiple stalls painted a deep gray lined the other. Showers were hidden behind blood-red curtains at the back of the room. Oversized towels, lotions, and soaps crowded the counter.

  I entered one of the stalls and opened the small bottle clutched in my hand, staring down at the little pills distastefully.

  My options were to keep Ash or confess. If I told the truth, they would try to help me, but I’d have to remain a prisoner here forever.

  It was a no-brainer what to choose.

  Besides, Ash was real, not something that could be cured with medicine. I also performed my Assignments just fine; I was their best, and that was thanks to Ash. And just the thought of never leaving this place even if I was aboveground was too much to bear.

  But the last thing I wanted was more loss of control over my own mind. I tipped the bottle toward the toilet just as the bathroom door opened.

  “Hiya, Ashley! Ok, awkward . . . Um, you gonna close the stall and do your thing or what?”

  I turned around and moaned internally. It was Lacey Holmes, a twenty-year-old Sealer who was completely unscathed by this life. She was everything bubbly and had the energy of a child.

  She made me tired.

  “Fake a headache and leave. I can only take so much of this woman.”

  For once, Ash and I were in agreement.

  “Hello, Lacey. I was just leaving to go train,” I said, heading for the door.

  “Oh, come on! Stay and chat a little bit! You Assassins are always so busy, busy, busy! Hey, what’s in the bottle? Did the Evaluator give you some happy pills? Wanna share?” Lacey said, giggling.

  Ash actually took control of me, popping one of the pills into my mouth. Against my will, I swallowed it dry.

  “Sorry. This woman’s enough to make anyone do drugs.”

  Fuming inside, I fought against Ash’s hazy web of control and shoved the bottle at Lacey.

  “Here, you can have them.”

  Lacey put her hands up and shook her head, her brown curls bouncing around her face. “Oh, no thank you. I was only kidding!”

  “The way you are, you have got to be on drugs. Are you positive you don't want more?” Ash said.

  Shock, shame, and anger flooded through me, along with Ash’s feelings of humor and glee. I wanted to smack my forehead, if only to pretend that I was smacking Ash instead. I hated being here; the demon inside of me was practically uncontrollable.

  Lacey’s face fell for a second, but then her smile immediately returned. It was not as genuine as before, and my cheeks flushed with blood.

  “Excuse me,” I mumbled as I brushed past her to go to my room.

  I entered my security code on the keypad next to the door and went inside. Despite the fact that I was here often, my room was small and bare, consisting only of a bed, a nightstand with a lamp and an alarm clock, and a closet.

  I threw the bottle of pills toward the corner and flopped down onto the bed. I used every ounce of my strength to push Ash away, to force her into the t
iniest speck inside my mind. It required all of my concentration, as she was fighting back.

  It was a game of tug-of-war until I started to feel calmness spreading through me. The nausea that usually accompanied me faded away. I felt strangely tranquil, which was ironically unnerving, but I couldn’t bring myself to care. My mind quietened, and I drifted down into harmless darkness.

  ***

  I awoke to angry, muddled voices coming from downstairs. I sat up, rubbing my eyes.

  Daddy’s voice! Daddy was home from his business trip!

  Noodles shifted beside me, and I reached down to the ball of fluff and patted him.

  “It’s ok, boy. Stay here. I will be right back,” I whispered to the dog. Noodles licked my hand as I crawled out of bed.

  I quietly left the room and made my way halfway down the stairs, holding the banister in the darkness. There was a small amount of light coming from the kitchen, and I sat down on the steps to listen.

  “—tired of not knowing if you’ll come home or not! And Ashley? You want this fate for her?”

  “How can you say that to me? Of course I don’t, but what can I do? My hands are tied! I was born into this. . . . I didn’t choose it! There is no escape.”

  “Can we please just run away? Let’s just leave everything behind, Richard! We can start somewhere new where nobody knows us.”

  “You know that’s not possible. They’re everywhere! That’s been tried before, and I don’t have to tell you what happened to that person and to their family!”

  “Then we move to a different country. Australia or something . . .”

  “You really think they wouldn’t find us? Ruth, you know they would.”

  I clutched the banister harder as something hairy brushed the back of my arm. I squealed and turned around to see Noodles panting at me happily.

  “Noodles!” I hissed. “I told you to stay in bed.”

  “Please, Richard. Can’t we just—ˮ

  “Shh.”

  The hallway light flicked on, and my arm went to cover my eyes.

  “Sunshine, what are you doing out of bed?” Daddy asked.

  I stumbled down the stairs and flung myself into his arms.

 

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