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Date Posted: Saturday, September 09, 11:39:06pm
Author: warren
Subject: Blind Acceptance

Madeline saw the enemy move closer to her mission partner. She had to do something. She ran towards where they both were. She watched as the man hit her partner with a backhand punch. He went down. He lay on the ground. Unmoving. The man pulled a gun out of the inside pocket of his jacket. Pointed it at the man lying on his back in front of him on the ground. Madeline had to do something. She couldn’t shoot him as he may have a muscle reaction which still moves his finger on the trigger. Although she was running towards them she was still ten metres away and she had to do something. So she screamed like a banshee. The man turned at the shrill at the same instant she gave a last final effort and jumped at him. She hardly heard the shot but she knew the gun had fired. She struggled with the man. Twisted his arm around and pointed his own gun at him. To her the sound of the gun was louder this time. He slowed down in struggling with her. Stopped and fell to the ground. Now there were two men on the ground. She quickly moved to Paul and knelt down next to him. Checked his breathing and pulse. She lay down next to him and put her head on his chest. The two double beats per second was like music to her ears. He was alive. That was the main thing. Paul Wolfe would survive. He was the most important man in the world. Not right now. In years to come. She knew he would be. He had to survive. It didn’t matter if she didn’t. He had to. At any cost. She knew he was to be a major part of the world’s future.


As she lay next to him with her head on his chest she remembered quite a few things. All at the same time. And at the same time, all for different lengths of time.

Her mother. Her sister. A doll. Stairs. Her sister. Her mother. Another teenage girl. A fight. An eye in her hand. The asylum. Her mother. Psychiatrists. Questions. Psychologists. Answers. Learning about psychology and psychiatry. Fooling the doctors. Taken to Section. Questions. Answers. Torture. Taking the torture. Almost. Finding her pain limit. For sure. The shouted question, “What do you want?” Her quiet answer. “To be better at this than you are.” Training. Guns. Weapons. Fighting. Self control of mind. Self control of body. White room. Chair. Sitting. Shouting. Standing. Whispering. Missions. Operatives. Sex. Paul. Best sex. Missions. Paul. The past Friday night. After the sex. Her head on his chest. Like it is now. Listening to his heart. Like she is now. He had said then in a serious voice, “I’d take a bullet for you, Madeline.” Then added jokingly, “But not tonight.” Instead, she had taken the bullet meant for him. She listened again to his beating heart. She still heard the music of life beating in his chest.
Now she also knew she had to live. For him. No one else would understand him like she does. No one else would look after him like she would.
She remembered last week as she was in this same position. Both of them naked at the time. Hot and sweaty from the sex. The sweet taste of his kiss on her mouth, mixing with the sour taste of the sweat from his neck.

Very different to the metallic taste of her own blood in her own mouth.

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