I could only think of one reason why Colette would bind and gag me, throw me in a dirty cellar, and come in brandishing a serrated knife, pressing the tip of the blade at the hollow of my throat; she wanted revenge for the death of her lover.
Confirming my suspicion, she hissed at me, "He's going to know what it feels like to lose someone close." Her voice was low and laced with venom, hatred boiling in those vibrant green orbs.
I scoffed, unable to control what spilled out of my mouth next, "You think he loved you? Oh, honey, don't be so naive. You're a prostitute, someone used for the purpose of sex for lonely men. Nothing more."
I could see that affected her some. I saw her jaw clench and she pressed the blade deeper, cutting into me a little, drawing blood, reminding me of the cuts littering my body from her boyfriend. Just thinking about the vile act he'd demonstrated on me made me shiver, my breath quickening as I felt the familiar tingle.
I calmed myself by inhaling steadily and taking another stab at her psyche, "Wanna know something?" I waggled my finger and acted as though I wanted to share some deep secret with her. She leaned in close and I whispered, "The only thing he did love was your vagina."
Her eyes widened considerably, astonished at the sentence I'd just uttered, confusion and hurt registering on her features. This made me realize something; she wasn't totally invulnerable. She was just a girl looking for love in all the wrong places, seeking acceptance. Her only idea of affection was sex, that's all she's ever known, I'm guessing.
I tried consoling her, my voice taking on a gentler tone, "Hey, I know you might feel like you loved him, but I think you only liked him because he was the only one to show interest in you for more than one night."
Tears streamed freely down her face now, mascara pooling beneath her eyes, "Shut up! What do you know?" She seethed through clenched teeth, adding more pressure to the weapon against my neck.
I swallowed, feeling my muscles flex against the cold steel on my skin, now decorated with the scarlet of my blood. She grabbed hold of my hair and yanked my head back, exposing more of my throat, giving her easier access. I looked at her face; pale skin dotted with freckles, porcelain smooth. Fiery red spiral curls framed this face. She was pretty, but her personality took away from her beauty.
Just then the door burst open, disintegrating beneath the force of the blow. Ezio stood in the rubble, striking like a snake. He grabbed Colette's arm and pulled her away from me. I glanced down and saw a small drop of blood sliding down between my breasts.
After he'd had Colette cuffed, and he'd untied me, I called out to her. The guards that had come in after Ezio to drag her away allowed me a quick chat with her, "You're not a fault for this, whoever raped you is." It was just a wild guess. I knew some people resorted to selling themselves when they experienced the trauma of being forced to become intimate with someone when they didn't have any desire to, especially if it was someone they trusted, someone they thought would protect them.
It had hit home with her. Her bottom lip trembled and her face contorted with an oncoming rush of tears. She resembled a child just then, looking nothing like the mature young woman she really was. She kicked and thrashed as the men hauled her away, her screams of agony ricocheting off the walls and leaving echoes behind her. I felt terrible. Sure, she'd tried to harm me, but she was really still that innocent little girl she was whenever whoever it was deflowered her, trapped inside a body she wasn't comfortable with, seeking the only kind of love she's ever known. She doesn't know that love is a lot more than what she experienced.
Suddenly I am engulfed by strong arms, the subtle scent of Ezio filling my nostrils; hay, sweat, and blood. I smiled and wrapped my arms around his waist, hearing the deep timbre of his voice reverberating in my ears, "How is it that you seem to keep slipping from my grasp?" The sadness in his voice mingles with the joy at finding me alive and nearly unharmed and it breaks my heart just a little. I squeeze tighter.
"Sorry." I whisper. Not much of an apology, but he accepts it and places a kiss atop my head, surprising me.
I can't ever recall a time when he's displayed such tenderness before, other than when I killed my mother and was still grieving over my father's death. This time, it was different. The last time, he offered his condolences, letting me know he was a shoulder for me to cry on if need be. This time, he was comforting me with a gesture similar to that of a lover or a parent or an older sibling.
Could this really be his true feelings? I decided to test the water. Looking up at him, I said, "Ezio, we've been with one another a long time. . ." I paused, not sure how he'd react. I took a deep breath and let it all out in a big rush, "I think it's time for me to come clean and let you know how I really feel. Ezio, I love you." I blinked down at the ground, afraid of his reaction, afraid of his rejection or detestment of the idea. Maybe he thought of me as family, a young sister. He gently pinched my chin with his thumb and forefinger, forcing me to look him in the eyes. The milky caramel orbs stared at me for a long moment, holding a great amount of questioning in them. Was he questioning his feelings for me? Or was he contemplating how he should let me down easily? The stretch of silence grew longer and only made me more anxious.
Just as I was about to start hyperventilating, having another panic attack, he leaned down and pressed his lips softly against mine, smothering all the doubts drifting around in my head. The kiss was gentle yet passionate, not to mention it held all the love within it he didn't utter. He wasn't ready to say it, not yet, but I knew he loved me, I could see it in the way his eyes swam with a mist of tears as he pulled back.
"Here they come!" Ezio's bellowing warning resounded against the clear, blue afternoon sky. I nodded, although he'd already turned to direct his gunmen stationed along the rooftops. I was in control of the archers, being pretty flexible with a bow myself. I nocked an arrow, drew back, bowstring taut, the tip of my index finger lightly brushing against my cheek, and took aim. I stared at the gate where I knew a flock of Templars would come bursting through. I yelled at my side of the defense.
"Get ready, men!" At my command, all seventeen archers drew their weapons, aiming collectively at the entrance the enemy would flood through.
Just as the wood gave way, splintering beneath the huge log the Templars rammed against it, a red-haired maiden stumbled into the street, clearly confused at all the soldiers stationed along the street and the heavy weaponry they controlled. She had come from a bookstore, clutching huge volumes against her chest. I glanced at Ezio, panic rising in my throat. He looked in my direction as I mouthed clearly, "Sofia." We had seen her once when we first arrived in Constantinople. After that, she became immersed in her library across from the Assassin's Den, but I knew her well enough to know that the woman glancing worriedly around, clutching at her emerald skirts was Sofia Sartor.
He jumped down into the alley we had blocked off, coming to her rescue just as the Templars came barreling through. He clutched her around the waist and ducked into the bookstore, leaving me to command not only my own men, but his as well. His gunmen glanced in my direction and I ignored my petty jealousy to protect this city. I took a deep breath, gathered my courage, and yelled at the top of my lungs, "At the ready!" They then aimed their canons, guns, and arrows, me included. I waited until my gut told me the moment was right, "FIRE!"
A volley of arrows struck down at least ten men, the remaining getting shot with gunfire or cannonballs. I withheld the urge to jump for joy at my victory, because that was only the beginning. More men came tumbling forward right behind the ones we'd killed.
It was a repetitive process; reload, redraw, aim, fire. Each time we would kill twenty men, another thirty came in their place. I decided to double our efforts. Each archer was to draw two arrows at the same time. It was risky, considering one arrow could lose momentum along they way and fall flat or strike one of our men instead, but we had to take the chance.
It worked well. Less and less men came in after that. Finally, realizing they were outmatched, they retreated and scurried home to, no doubt, plan more attacks. For now, everyone was safe. I dismissed everyone on the rooftops and sat down, legs dangling over the edge. I was exhausted. Mental exertion could drain you just as much as physical.
I watched everyone set aside their weapons to clean up the debris, my gaze occasionally falling on the door to the shop Ezio and Sofia had ducked into. Finally, after what seemed like a lifetime, they emerged, Sofia giggling excitedly at something Ezio had said before they came out.
A knife twisted in my gut, stabbing, cutting. A jealous pang coursed through me, making me grit my teeth and clutch the edge of the roof. The feeling intensified as she leaned into him, getting up on tip-toes to place a gentle kiss against his scarred mouth. A look of surprise flitted across his features, but he did not discourage her, did not push her away.
In a fit of uncontrollable rage, I grabbed the bow sitting next to me, nocked a leftover arrow, and aimed for her head. I had to only release the tension on the string and she'd be gone, an arrow pierced through her brain. I wouldn't have to worry about her. I wouldn't have to be bothered by the way she tenderly caressed his left bicep, or the way she smiled sweetly up at him, or the way she pushed her nearly exposed breasts into his face.
Suddenly, I stopped myself, aimed the arrow elsewhere, and fired. It skittered against the stone of the street, sending sparks flying, landing harmlessly away from the innocent woman I was about to murder in cold-blood. Okay, so she wasn't entirely innocent, but I was about to let myself skewer her with an arrow all for harmless flirtation.
Is all this violence and mayhem getting to me? I clutched at the bow like a child would a beloved blanket or toy. Is the path I've decided to follow really the right one? I don't want to be an Assassin, yet everything I've done says otherwise. I've killed. Blood stains my hands. I glance down at them, notice they're trembling.
Who knows how long I've been awake now.
The shadows on my wall don't sleep.
They keep calling me,
beckoning, beckoning...
"Get ahold of yourself." I whisper closing my eyes against the sudden gust of cold wind that bites into my skin, "You're not a child, you're an adult, so act like one." I scold myself.
When I opened my eyes again, Sofia was gone and Ezio stood in the center of the street I hadn't realized had been abandoned, and stared up at me questioningly.
With everyone gone and with no risk of jumping on anyone, I leaped from the roof, landing on the balls of my feet so I didn't tumble over backwards. Ezio stepped forward hesitantly, having seen my strange burst of anger earlier, wary of my reaction to him. I simply smiled and tilted my head at a slight angle. I realized how silly I had been and tried to put it behind me, "Is she alright? She's not shaken up, is she?"
"Let's not talk about her." Relief was evident in his voice; I wasn't angry anymore. And he was right, I didn't want to talk about her. Despite trying to convince myself I truly did care that she was okay, I didn't want her to occupy my mind anymore. I just wanted to admire Ezio and how far we'd come since the beginning of our sojourn. I allowed myself to be swept into his arms. I let myself enjoy the presence of his mouth upon mine and just let everything go. He still hasn't said he loves me. I know, in time, he will. For now, I settle for expressing my own feelings.
"I love you." And he responds by deepening the kiss, filling me with the love he won't say.
If you could only save me,
I'm drowning in the waters of my soul.
There's nothing left to say now, nothing left to say
I'm givin' up, givin' up, hey, hey, givin' up now.
Givin' up, givin' up.
Song: Imagine Dragons - Nothing Left to Say