Eva And Withelé The War Time Assassin And The Child Prisoner Part Three

 White Death


Withelé scrubbed her hands until they started to bleed. The pain was nothing compared to the pain that she was going through. Her head had barely touched the pillow before she was dragged into the world of her nightmares. She saw the faces that she had killed looking down at her. They had multiple weapons in their hands and they were marching towards her.

"You killed us! You killed us! You killed us and now we are going to kill you!" They said in unison. 

"It wasn't my fault! It wasn't my fault! She made me do it! I couldn't stop it! I couldn't stop it! I couldn't stop it! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"

"Sorry is not going to bring us back now is it?" They said as they came closer and closer.

"No. No. No. No! NO!"

She woke up screaming. She looked around and spotted that it was only a nightmare. She calmed her breath as she sat there, crying and trembling. 

What is this woman doing to me? How much blood'll be on my hands before I'm free of her? How many faces will haunt me until this nightmare is over? Oh I'm too young for this! I'm too young for this! I'm far too young for this! Please! If someone's out there! Please help! Help! Help me! I don't want this! I don't want this!

She started to rock as her tears became painful. She started to hyperventilate and her head became light as she fainted in an ice cold sweat. She fell back into her nightmares and woke and repeated the same process. She did this again and again weaving in and out of her nightmares until morning. 

Her mother walked in and by the look on her face it was all too clear that she knew and heard everything that happened that night. Including her very thoughts. She walked in and walked up to her and placed a hand on her cheek and stroked it.

"Bad night?"

She looked away knowing that she already knew. Yet she did not want to reply. Best not fall into her mothers' traps. Looking away, she knew would be the best way to hide her emotions. Yet she knew that this was useless. Her mother knew.

"Alright if that's the way you want to play it, then fine. Now pack up, we will be heading to a wedding."

A wedding? How absurd. Unless she wants me to stop it.

"Why?"

"Simple, the wedding will put my plans into ruin." 

"Aww! Are we intimidated by a bit of love are we?" She taunted.

Her mother chuckled.

"You have no idea. Now I need you to get ready within no less than an hour." She said, putting her hand in her pocket.

She got up and packed everything and took a shower and put on a dress. She was ready no less in half an hour. She even packed her shampoo and conditioner. If anyone saw her, one would think that she was going on a fancy weekend away, and not to a wedding to kill someone! Just thinking about it made her want to puke and the nausea from the lack of sleep did nothing to help. She was glad that her stomach was empty. Otherwise she would not get to where her mother wanted to take her without a grim combination of; undigested, semi-digested and digested trail coated with her stomach acid. This point was driven home when she saw her mother, who was dressed professionally, placed a hand on her forehead and looked at her sympathetically for a moment and smiled, almost like a mother should. 

Then she took hold of her hand and walked to the plane, yet it seemed longer than last time. She was sweating too. Her head felt light and her eyelids were dropping. Soon her vision became blurry. It soon became black. Yet it felt like her legs were still walking. By the time that she came too, she was already on the plane. She found that she was standing too even though her legs felt like jelly.

"Withelé, Withelé, why are you not sitting down?" Her mother asked.

With that she felt her heart thumping in her head. She slowly sat her hair on end. Yet even though she felt eclipsed by fear she was able to close her eyes again and was pulled back into the world of nightmares. She soon woke up screaming. 

"What? Had a bad dream?"

"No thanks to you!" She retorted.

"Here, this will make you better!" She said, giving her a bowl of cereal. She looked at it. She felt her heart tug.

"Why? It's only going to be thrown up."

"No. It won't. Once you do you tend to feel better. After all, I doubted it too until my mother said it but, as it turned out, she was telling the truth."

She let out a sigh. This was the first time she had heard her talk about Olf like this. She then took the bowl.

"Do you miss her?"

"In some ways, yes in others, no."

"Explain."

"Well I miss her cooking and her tender voice, but I do not miss her lectures on goodness and oh, how she went on about how I could be redeemed. I just hated that. Which is why I am glad that you killed her." 

I'm not and I only did it because you made me! She soon spotted that her mother had changed her expression to one of contemptment and her eyes tensed. Yet she had expected to show at least some remorse or say something comforting. Then she remembered who she was. Why would she? After all she didn't when she made me kill them? Yet why is she saying this now? Unless she wants me to develop a false sense of security. Whatever the case, I need to keep my eyes open for any weakness.

Surprisingly she was able to eat her breakfast without throwing up.

"I wish you hadn't made me. I never wanted this blood on my hands."

"Get used to it. Having blood on your hands is your life now. Regardless of if it's guilty or innocent."

"Just stop. Please, just stop." She muttered, exposing her defeated greaf.

"I'm sorry, I can't. I've done too much and sacrificed too much to get to this point. No, I don't want to do that and if you had drunk that satan soul then neither would you."

She placed the bowl back on the table. She looked out of the window and saw the hill where the wedding was now taking place. The plane landed on an opposite hill that was well hidden within more hills, yet gave a direct sight to the hill. Her mother pressed a hand against her hand. 

"Take this."

Her hand wrapped around the cold metal weapon. She soon left the plane. She was forced to kneel and then lay down in the long grass. There; she would stay hidden. She would have been alone with her thoughts if her mother was not there. She wished that she could get up and get the gun out of her hand. She felt her heart in her head and she would have shook if her body was not kept so deathly still by the nanites in it. She felt her fear and panic as she felt like a prisoner in her own body. It felt alien to her and she hated the lack of control that she had over it. She could even feel her painful tears fall but that did nothing to move her body. She tried to keep silent.

She soon saw the groom dressed in a white suit and she then waited as the bride came. Then she felt her mothers' breath in her ear.

"Fire at the groom." She whispered and, just as the bride was halfway down the aisle, she fired, powerless to disobey. As the blood flowed on his white suit everything went black...

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