Agent with a History

  *****

  “NO!!! Please stop hurting her! No please!”

  “Wake up!”

  I came awake with a start to find Flint beside the bed, shaking me.

  With a sob I reached for him, as I cried out, “Don’t leave me!”

  “I wasn’t planning on it,” he said, as he slid into the bed to sit upright with his back against the headboard.

  He pulled my head over onto his thigh and, with his hand on my back, began to rub away the bad memory of the dream. After a while he began to stroke his fingers through my curly hair, not saying anything.

  Sounding defensive, even to my own ears, I asked, “I suppose you want to know all about my nightmares?”

  He didn’t say anything and I was about to add something to the effect that it was none of his business when he said, “I met your father.”

  I’d pretty much figured out that he had to know who my father was by now.

  “He told me you tried to kill him once. I wish you had,” I responded softly.

  He didn’t correct me and tell me that was the wrong way to talk about a parent, and I was grateful for that. People often just didn’t understand. Some people needed to be killed and my father was one of them. Like a poisonous snake slithering toward a playground full of kids, he needed his head chopped off.

  “He told me what happened to you and your mother.”

  I bolted upright and turned on him. “He told you? He had no right!” I screamed and started to get off the bed.

  He caught me and brought me back against his chest and held me there, while I struggled to be free.

  It was no use. He had a strength that made my own appear nonexistent and I cared for him too much to smash my fist between his legs and incapacitate him, like any man would be after such a blow. I stopped struggling and let my head fall back against him.

  “How can you even still want me?” I asked softly, feeling all broken up inside.

  “The things that happen to us don’t make us who we are unless we let them. Sometimes there are good things that come out of the experiences we have in life, but sometimes there are not. Sometimes we let bad experiences dictate our lives for us, instead of just letting those moments pass us by. What happened to you as a girl was awful, but it doesn’t make you the person that I’m holding right now. But, it can stop you from enjoying what you were meant to have in life, if you let it. What happened to you will always be a part of your past, but it doesn’t and shouldn’t have anything to do with the way you live the rest of your life.”

  I just laid there. He was right, of course. I’d fought the same battle with myself over a million times it seemed. At least now I didn’t have to fight it alone anymore.

  I turned my head and kissed his neck and breathed out, “I love you!” against his neck too softly for him to hear.

  I slid down, until I lay with my head on his thigh again. I played with the golden cross on my necklace.

  “Did your mother give that to you? It’s very unique. I’ve seen several others just like it in the past,” he asked inquisitively.

  My voice quivered slightly, “I took it off her body before they dumped her in the ocean for the sharks.”

  The toned muscles of his thigh twitched beneath my face and I glanced up and saw deep fury written across his face even though the gentle touch of his hand on my back hadn’t changed.

  He was mad clear through. It was nice having someone like him mad on my behalf. At some point I fell asleep, only to wake to him sitting on the corner of the bed fully dressed, as the sun’s early rays were just beginning to pour through the windows.

  “Come on sleepy head, the open road is calling our name,” he said with a smile that was as warm as the sun outside.

  I sat up and looked around. “Where are my clothes?”

  “Already packed. I left some out for you over there. We’ll get breakfast on the way,” Flint said.

  He went to the door saying over his shoulder, “See you in ten.”

  I hopped out of bed.

  Ten minutes!

  That wasn’t enough time to get properly ready!