Into the Fire
Sophie was a neighbor. That’s what she started as at least. After a few run-ins with overloaded arms full of groceries, girls’ nights, and a breakup or two later, we became friends. I would have gone as far as to call her my best friend, and certainly the only one I had outside of my father's business.
How we ended up here was a mystery.
I sat in silence at my father’s lavish dining room table. Most of the condo was still bare, small pieces of furniture and tasteful decor scattered about the apartment. It was unsettling, this new place. He kept many things from our old home, in what I hoped was familiarity, but when we left he replaced most of the furniture with monochrome and modern pieces. The whole place felt cold and uncomfortable. That seemed to be his style these days.
As he walked out of his room and to the kitchen I sat up straighter in my seat, intent on impressing him in any way I could. Catching a look at his features I soon realized the mistake and shrunk back into my seat, shoulders bunching up and eyes glancing to the floor.
He stood like a sentinel, arms crossed and shoulders locked into place with a stare that chilled me to the bones. It was painted with clear disappointment, an emotion so often directed at others that regret began to stir deep in my stomach, rolling into nausea. I hated when he gave me that look. His voice reverberated as he spoke, the sound bouncing off the walls and into my head with force.
“Do you know what you’ve done?”
I lowered my head even further. “No, father.”
“Your friend, Sophie, was it? She reported you to the police. You are lucky that the ones she went to were mine and that I handled it for you.”
I shivered, the tone implying more than I wanted to accept. I never wanted Sophie to find out about who or what I was, and I had thought with how calm she was when she first saw my ability that she accepted me. Accepted what I could do. My curiosity got the better of me and I asked the question that immediately came to mind.
“What do you mean?”
He sighed, the tone of it causing the hairs on the back of my neck to rise.
“Sophie will not be bothering you anymore.”
I let myself look up at him, pleading for forgiveness. “Father, please. She’s my friend.”
The anger that crossed his features was palatable in the air, a sickening and sour feeling that made everyone in the room bristle, including Wesley.
“She is not your friend. This is what happens when you bring in outsiders. They don’t understand our love for this city.”
“We can teach people, get them to accept us. If they knew that we were helping them they might listen.”
He tutted, shaking his head and placing a hand on my head.
“I know what they call you, dear. My sweet Cerberus, a guard dog for this city. You want everyone safe, but you need to let go of a few if you want the rest to thrive.”
I forced down the scowl that wanted to break free off my face, plastering a polite smile in its place. “I don’t like being called a dog, father.”
He hummed, a deep and uninterested sound.
“It’s fitting, don’t you think? You’re the last line of defense, the thing that will hand me this broken city on a silver platter. Together we will fix it, and save its people. That’s what you want, isn’t it?”
I swallowed down a sigh. If what he needed was a dog, a tool to be used in his conquest in order to save them, then that is what I must be. He made me for this, raised me for this. Was I wrong for wanting more? For wanting a friend that I did not have to spy, beat, or steal for? Was this who I am? My entire life has been spent in pursuit of his goals, ensuring his victory where others failed him. I was built for this, and this alone. I could do this.
“Of course father.”
-O-
The cool night air was a welcome reprieve against the tension simmering just under my skin. The Union Allied situation, as explained by the brothers, was a massive screw-up on Wesley and Owlsley’s end that should have been an easy fix. They didn’t go into detail, only that a woman had gotten her hands on some information that could lead back to some issues within the organization. It was hard to believe that the perfectionist himself would allow someone to get this far without buying them out or threatening them into submission. That was my job after all. To protect my father I had done many things that were questionable for the family’s benefit.
Losing Sophie was unexpected and getting scolded for it hurt. I didn’t often allow myself to have friends outside of the organization, and the one time I did it came around to bite me in the ass and leave me for dead. It’s probably what she intended, calling the police on my home. It scared the poor lady next door Ms. Cardenas, that I had come to also enjoy. She was the first at my door with a sympathetic smile and some fruit, ready to console me. After an hour of conversation and several thanks yous I managed to send her back home.
Here is where I ended up, wandering the streets, a bodyguard a few feet behind me. He was an unassuming fellow, one that had followed me around for a few years now, and somewhat a friend. He was not one I could trust not to report back to father, but if it was innocent enough of a question I knew I could still manage to fly under the radar.
The irony wasn’t lost on me, of being trailed by a guard while being the city’s guard dog myself. It was probably just a formality on my father's part, something to placate me and keep an eye on me while not doing a job.
I stopped at a crosswalk, intent on waiting for the light to change.
“You seem upset, Miss. Wilson.”
I hummed, trying not to scrunch my nose up at the name. Close enough to know who I belong to, but different enough that no one would look for his first name as my last.
“Just tired and a little disappointed.”
“Disappointed in what?”
“I thought Sophie was my friend.”
He paused for a second, thinking over his words. “She didn’t have good intentions, Ms. Wilson.”
I sighed, kicking the chunk of asphalt that rested in front of my boot. “I know. I just wanted a friend.”
“Just be patient, everyone will want to be your friend soon.”
He sounded cocky, assured that this would be a fact.
“And why is that?” I shot him a side-eye.
“Because they’ll know what you did to save the city, to fix everything.”
I couldn’t help but doubt this. I had begun doubting so much lately, I wondered when it would stop. I tried to keep the unease out of my voice as I responded, my hands clenching in my coat pockets at my side.
“What if they don’t want it fixed.”
Gregory sounded confident but calm, nudging my shoulder with his to bring my attention back down to Earth and the, to him, very important conversation. I just wanted it over.
“My employer explained it once this way: they don’t know that things are bad until they see them when they are good. I wholly believe in his message.”
I hummed once again, trying to show my agreement without saying anything in particular. That seemed to be a common theme these days, believing in the message without question. I feel like that once described me, but something felt like it was shifting. Like there was a great change on the horizon.
I’m not sure if I wanted to run away from it, or try and place myself directly in its path.