Hard On Yourself

(continued from this post)

“Why would you want to kill me?” Bob asked quietly. He wasn’t sure he wanted to hear the answer, but the words just spilled from his lips.

Carolyn shook her head. “No. No - I never wanted to kill you. Ever.” She hiccuped softly. “But - Command had orders. For if - if they ever took you, I was supposed to make sure they couldn’t...use you.”

Bob closed his eyes, swallowed hard. “I see. Would it have been quick and painless?”

“For you,” Carolyn said. “For me it would have lasted forever.” She buried her face against his neck, and she was trembling. “I’m so, so sorry, Robbie. I fell in love with you and I’m not sure I could’ve done what I was supposed to, and then, when they took you, they would have tortured you, and you would have been in pain. For hours. Because I loved you and couldn’t do it and --”

Bob hushed her gently, wrapped his arms around her and held her. “Don’t be so hard on yourself,” he said. Relief curled through his limbs, echoed by the warmth of her body against his. He swallowed hard. All these years he’d done his best to hate her, forget her, and she’d tortured herself with the knowledge that loving him was failing him. Who were these people in command, that they’d do this to a girl? Because she’d been just a girl when she’d started on the road with them.

He could still hear her words, some of the last words she’d said to him all those years ago.

“I picked up a gun when I was six years old, first killed a man when I was ten. I learned seven languages and how to withstand torture, just so I could keep you alive.”

“Carolyn,” he said, “I love you.”

“I love you too, Robbie.” Carolyn pulled back. “Now c’mon - we have to get out of here.”

She reached into her jacket and drew out a handgun.

Bob blinked, then stood up, offered her a hand. “Let’s go.”

(340 words)