not capable of, and I don’t think he will harm me. He seems too concerned where my life is concerned.
“When you want to know details of our plan, make sure no one is in earshot. That’s lesson one. Next, until this is done, you will assume the role of Amelia Night. I have told you this already. You have established her as a classy, sophisticated woman, not some trashy, low-rent cop.” He’s flustered, and I am slightly insulted by his comment. “Get your head on straight. You never know who’s watching us. That should be apparent from this morning’s rush out of Vegas.” He roughly sets his Martini glass on the coffee table in front of us and rips me to pieces with his frigid glare. “Got it?”
I nod and pull the bottle of water to my lips. I understand where he is coming from, but I assumed we are safe here. I didn’t think it was until we are in Russia that I would have to be Amelia Night, but I guess Nikolai is never really Nikolai when he is out in public. He is always his alter ego, Vincent Black. I guess there is still a lot for me to learn.
We sit in silence for the next hour. Nikolai looks off in the distance, his eyes searching. I can only wonder what kind of thoughts are running through his head. If they are anything like mine, they are trying to predict the future and wondering if we will make it out of Russia alive.
It’s nearing time for us to board, so I take the opportunity to use the bathroom. Standing in front of the sink, washing my hands, I look at myself again in the mirror. He is right. I don’t look like the woman he described I should be. Until we are done with this quest, my public persona can only be Amelia Night. If I look like anyone right now, it’s the old Josslyn, the one who is detached from reality and will stop at nothing to get her man. However, the man I need to capture is outside this door.
In the end, I will have him in handcuffs because that is what I need to do. That will be my final mission as I follow him on this journey of murder. If I want to assume my old life after Stravinsky is dead, then I need to remember that.
.*.*.*.
August 15, 2015 4:08 p.m .
The pain is immense.
If I pull myself in a tight ball on the floor, it’s still there. The pain feels like I am burning from the inside out. My skin is slick from the warm shower, but the burning is scorching compared to the temperature of the water. I want the icy, bloodless numbing to return.
I squeeze my eyes shut and whisper to the air, “Take me away. Please, just take me away.”
I want the dark curtain to cloak me again. I don’t want to see. I don’t want to feel the pain and weight and screams and dying. I just want it to be taken away.
The heaviness of his body holds me down. My limbs won’t work. His hands are bricks on my shoulders. Every breath I inhale, his salty smell surrounds me. I need to wash. I must get it off my skin, but the weight is too much, pinning my arms to my sides.
“Josslyn.”
My eyes snap open as reality floats back in.
Nikolai’s eyes are wide with alarm. “You were dreaming.”
I pull my feet from the seat across from me and wrap my arms around my frame. I am covered in a sheen of sweat and can feel how ridiculous this must look to someone like Nikolai.
I get up from the seat and walk to the small bathroom located at the rear of the plane. When the door closes, I shake my head, trying to stop the visions from that night.
They still haunt me. The days following the attack were just as brutal as the event itself. I had to live with the pain Boris inflicted on my body, but it’s the screams and the weight of it all that continues to stay with me.
The water is ice cold when I cup my hands under the faucet and pool the liquid in them. It feels refreshing across my cheeks, washing away the burning heat and thrusting the images back behind the locked door where I store them.
As the visions wash down with the water, I wonder if I will always feel the
“When you want to know details of our plan, make sure no one is in earshot. That’s lesson one. Next, until this is done, you will assume the role of Amelia Night. I have told you this already. You have established her as a classy, sophisticated woman, not some trashy, low-rent cop.” He’s flustered, and I am slightly insulted by his comment. “Get your head on straight. You never know who’s watching us. That should be apparent from this morning’s rush out of Vegas.” He roughly sets his Martini glass on the coffee table in front of us and rips me to pieces with his frigid glare. “Got it?”
I nod and pull the bottle of water to my lips. I understand where he is coming from, but I assumed we are safe here. I didn’t think it was until we are in Russia that I would have to be Amelia Night, but I guess Nikolai is never really Nikolai when he is out in public. He is always his alter ego, Vincent Black. I guess there is still a lot for me to learn.
We sit in silence for the next hour. Nikolai looks off in the distance, his eyes searching. I can only wonder what kind of thoughts are running through his head. If they are anything like mine, they are trying to predict the future and wondering if we will make it out of Russia alive.
It’s nearing time for us to board, so I take the opportunity to use the bathroom. Standing in front of the sink, washing my hands, I look at myself again in the mirror. He is right. I don’t look like the woman he described I should be. Until we are done with this quest, my public persona can only be Amelia Night. If I look like anyone right now, it’s the old Josslyn, the one who is detached from reality and will stop at nothing to get her man. However, the man I need to capture is outside this door.
In the end, I will have him in handcuffs because that is what I need to do. That will be my final mission as I follow him on this journey of murder. If I want to assume my old life after Stravinsky is dead, then I need to remember that.
.*.*.*.
August 15, 2015 4:08 p.m .
The pain is immense.
If I pull myself in a tight ball on the floor, it’s still there. The pain feels like I am burning from the inside out. My skin is slick from the warm shower, but the burning is scorching compared to the temperature of the water. I want the icy, bloodless numbing to return.
I squeeze my eyes shut and whisper to the air, “Take me away. Please, just take me away.”
I want the dark curtain to cloak me again. I don’t want to see. I don’t want to feel the pain and weight and screams and dying. I just want it to be taken away.
The heaviness of his body holds me down. My limbs won’t work. His hands are bricks on my shoulders. Every breath I inhale, his salty smell surrounds me. I need to wash. I must get it off my skin, but the weight is too much, pinning my arms to my sides.
“Josslyn.”
My eyes snap open as reality floats back in.
Nikolai’s eyes are wide with alarm. “You were dreaming.”
I pull my feet from the seat across from me and wrap my arms around my frame. I am covered in a sheen of sweat and can feel how ridiculous this must look to someone like Nikolai.
I get up from the seat and walk to the small bathroom located at the rear of the plane. When the door closes, I shake my head, trying to stop the visions from that night.
They still haunt me. The days following the attack were just as brutal as the event itself. I had to live with the pain Boris inflicted on my body, but it’s the screams and the weight of it all that continues to stay with me.
The water is ice cold when I cup my hands under the faucet and pool the liquid in them. It feels refreshing across my cheeks, washing away the burning heat and thrusting the images back behind the locked door where I store them.
As the visions wash down with the water, I wonder if I will always feel the
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