Post by Gem on Mar 28, 2014 21:30:17 GMT -5
What is your name?
That's what they always want to know. When someone looks into your eyes, they need a subconscious label to attach to them. The eyes of a seemingly innocent little girl stare back at them, and it comforts most. They crave to know what to name a pleasant sight, as there is so much darkness and discomfort in their world.
They don't know what these eyes have seen.
The short answer is: More than they should have. At least for someone who just turned eighteen-years-old. While most girls my age fret over being asked to Prom or how they did on the midterm, I was mastering the psychology of the mind. While girls my age shop for clothes and hang out at the mall, I was being taught how to eliminate an enemy, physically and mentally. To be efficient as an assassin, to know their weaknesses, and to exploit them at every opportunity.
My father's eyes told a story that he doesn't know I've read. Those eyes have seen backs turned toward him when he needed them beside him the most. They've seen his heart stomped on in front of him when it should've been protected. But he always protected me. He may have been a recluse, but he was by no means of small intelligence. My father taught me everything he knew, and many things that he didn't realize he could. I had to learn how to disappear, to become the unseen, and how to protect myself so I wouldn't put myself in the same situations he did.
But hey, even a hitman has to buy groceries sometimes.
Now that I've signed my name on a dotted line for the first time, I enter into a new universe with many names and faces. Where longstanding rivalries come to a head at Pay-Per-View events, and championships are sought after, culminations of great stories told throughout the months that will conclude with their rise or fall.
Oh how they want to know that name. The name that only the holder of the contract knows, and the name many will seek when they want to know who the little girl is that joined their exclusive company. Soon enough, they'll realize they want the pseudonym for the sake of services, of aiding their toughest endeavors by enlisting the services of someone unconnected to the situation.
Who would expect it from a little girl?
So think about what you're really asking when you want to know my name. When your eyes meet the colored irises without realizing what they know and what they've seen, challenge yourself to accept things as they are. It may be better for you that way, because you'll never know if my next mission is to make you regret that phone call you didn't make ten years ago.
I know what you fear. I know what haunts you at night. And I don't need to strike you physically to drive home the point that will inevitably destroy your psyche...
But I will.
-Gem
That's what they always want to know. When someone looks into your eyes, they need a subconscious label to attach to them. The eyes of a seemingly innocent little girl stare back at them, and it comforts most. They crave to know what to name a pleasant sight, as there is so much darkness and discomfort in their world.
They don't know what these eyes have seen.
The short answer is: More than they should have. At least for someone who just turned eighteen-years-old. While most girls my age fret over being asked to Prom or how they did on the midterm, I was mastering the psychology of the mind. While girls my age shop for clothes and hang out at the mall, I was being taught how to eliminate an enemy, physically and mentally. To be efficient as an assassin, to know their weaknesses, and to exploit them at every opportunity.
My father's eyes told a story that he doesn't know I've read. Those eyes have seen backs turned toward him when he needed them beside him the most. They've seen his heart stomped on in front of him when it should've been protected. But he always protected me. He may have been a recluse, but he was by no means of small intelligence. My father taught me everything he knew, and many things that he didn't realize he could. I had to learn how to disappear, to become the unseen, and how to protect myself so I wouldn't put myself in the same situations he did.
But hey, even a hitman has to buy groceries sometimes.
Now that I've signed my name on a dotted line for the first time, I enter into a new universe with many names and faces. Where longstanding rivalries come to a head at Pay-Per-View events, and championships are sought after, culminations of great stories told throughout the months that will conclude with their rise or fall.
Oh how they want to know that name. The name that only the holder of the contract knows, and the name many will seek when they want to know who the little girl is that joined their exclusive company. Soon enough, they'll realize they want the pseudonym for the sake of services, of aiding their toughest endeavors by enlisting the services of someone unconnected to the situation.
Who would expect it from a little girl?
So think about what you're really asking when you want to know my name. When your eyes meet the colored irises without realizing what they know and what they've seen, challenge yourself to accept things as they are. It may be better for you that way, because you'll never know if my next mission is to make you regret that phone call you didn't make ten years ago.
I know what you fear. I know what haunts you at night. And I don't need to strike you physically to drive home the point that will inevitably destroy your psyche...
But I will.
-Gem