She loved to challenge herself. Everyone told her that she had a fearless death wish about her. But whatever didn’t kill her always made her stronger. That was her motto and mantra. A phrase she’d seen in a bad movie or read in a book one time, she couldn’t remember which. But it had always stuck with her and she uttered it daily.
Swimming against the tide, she managed to make it all the way over to the rocky island of seals and then all the way back to the main land again. It took her almost two hours. Usually she would stay on the island and explore it for a while, trying to get close to the seals who didn’t give a shit about her being there or just sitting and admiring them from afar. But this time she wanted to test herself, test her fitness and stamina to the extreme. To swim continuously there and back non-stop. She couldn’t care less if she drowned or if the tide sucked her up and under to join the mermaids and selkies way down in the deep, dark depths below.
When Estelle emerged from the rough sea and up onto the sandy shores, the first person she wanted to run and tell her amazing feat to was her sister. That was the only person who mattered to her in her teenage life back then, nothing and no one else.
“Gayle! Gayle!” Estelle cried out as she ran the length of the beach towards her still-making-sand-castles-in-the-sand little sister. “I swam all the way out to the Island and back again! You should have seen me. I didn’t even stop for breath or cramp neither—not once.”
“Wow.” Gayle replied, instantly stopping what she was doing to clap and smile at her older sister’s monumental feat. But the joyful moment was extremely short-lived. From behind Gayle, Estelle’s stepfather laughed snidely, like he had just remembered some cruel, twisted joke.
Estelle knew she should have just ignored the arsehole. But that wasn’t who she was. She was arrogant, bold, extremely confident, and cocksure for a young teenage girl. And one thing she just loved to do was push her stepfather’s buttons from time to time. Or the buttons of anyone who annoyed her for that matter. Seeing if she could get a rise from someone bigger and stronger than her filled her with the same adrenaline-fueled addictive feelings as swimming in the unpredictable deep grey sea.
“What’s so funny?” Estelle snapped back, staring at the man she hated with a cold and steely loathing.
“You did not swim to that fucking Island.”
“I did too. Where the fuck do you think I’ve been for over an hour?”
“Don’t you swear at me, you little fucking cunt! I’ll smash this bottle right over your fucking face. Cheeky fucking bitch!”
Estelle bit her tongue. She’d done her job. Her stepfather’s buttons were pushed with such ease these days that it was hardly worth the effort. He hated to be answered back or made a fool of. Besides, she didn’t want to bring any violence to this rare little family outing. Not in front of her sister. Even though she knew that her stepfather could and would eventually kick the living shit out of her, like he’d done on so many other occasions before.
But there it was again. What didn’t kill her made her stronger. That was written in her blood now. Estelle turned back to Gayle. She wanted to take her little sister away from this toxic family gathering, even for just a little while. She didn’t need to be around a mother close to overdosing and a stepfather drinking himself to an early grave, which she really hoped he would real soon.
After the death of Estelle and Gayle’s real father, a good man who died serving in the armed forces for his country, Estelle’s mother swiftly turned to drinking then drugs to dull and numb the pain of losing the love of her life. Even though it meant neglecting her own children. But she didn’t care. She loved her husband so much more than she ever loved her kids. And she proved that by eventually marrying the local drug dealer, Alan, and moving him into the family home within one year of their father’s funeral.
Her mother never even made the slightest attempt to get clean either. And from what Estelle had heard through eavesdropping in on her mother’s conversations with rare friends and even rarer family members who very quickly drifted away from their lives the more addicted to drugs her mother became, it was her father who wanted children, not her. She’d only had the little shits to keep him happy and to keep him around in the end.
Estelle used to daydream all the time as a child about what her and her sister’s life would be like if it was her mother who was blown up by a landmine over in Iraq and her father had been the one who’d stayed alive. In the end though, she’d made herself push those stupid little thoughts to the back of her mind. They were far too painful, depressing, and time-consuming to think about those what-might-have-beens.
“Come on, Gayle. Let’s go to the water. Let me teach you how to swim. Please?” Estelle begged her sister.
Her stepfather just chuckled again, but Estelle blatantly ignored him. He’d already risen to her bait, but she wouldn’t rise to his anymore.
“No. I don’t want to swim. I don’ like the water. I want to stay here.”
“Just walk along the shore with me then? Just let your feet get wet for a little while. That’s all. Baby steps. Aye?”
“How about Daddy shows you how to swim, sweetheart?” her stepfather chimed into the conversation once more, a conversation that he was clearly very unwelcome in by the look of daggers Estelle unleashed upon him. That word daddy felt like a knife in her ribs. Who was this dickhead calling himself their daddy? She could ignore a lot of his rambling nonsense and shite, but she couldn’t ignore that statement. No way. But she also knew where to strike him where it hurt the most. By giving him the cold hard facts as straight as they come. In hindsight though, it was a stupid, arrogant move on her part and there was only ever going to be one official victor.
“You’re not her father, so butt the hell out.” Estelle cried. Her stepdad didn’t say anything to that at first. He just stared hard and cold at Estelle for what seemed like forever. But she could clearly see a burning rage brewing behind those steely dark eyes of his. She’d hit a raw nerve.
He took a long hard swig from his vodka bottle before staggering up onto his feet. He was taller than Estelle just sitting down, but now, standing on his two, thick, tree-trunk legs, he looked like the lovechild of an angry red giant and a wasp-chewing ogre.
“I’ll show her how to fucking swim all right. Don’t you worry about that!” Her stepfather said before swiping Gayle up into his arms with complete and utter ease. His motion was so fast and unexpected for someone who looked so big, dumb, and slow that it caught Estelle completely off guard.
Gayle began screaming out hysterically to be put down. But her stepfather just laughed even harder with pure and utter self-amusement. It was all just a big laugh and cruel joke to him. Just like his overall life in general.
“Put her down, you big fucking brute! Put her down”! Estelle cried.
But her stepfather ignored her before making his way down towards the rough sea with the frantically struggling Gayle secure in his arms. In shear and utter desperation Estelle tried to shake her unconscious mother awake. But it was even more pointless than standing back and doing nothing at all.
“Mum. MUM. Will you do something? Please! WAKE UP. WAKE THE FUCK UP, MUM!”
Estelle’s mum hardly even stirred. She mumbled out something incoherent or it could have just been a wheezy breath and quickly went back to her unconscious world again.
Estelle, even more angry and frustrated, left her mother’s side just as quickly as she’d leapt to it. She anxiously glanced around for something to assist her, anything at all, a stick, a rock... Finally, she picked up her stepfather’s bottle of vodka. She then chased after the brute who was ever closer to the sea with her hysterical little sister still gripped tightly within his big, strong arms like she was a baby seal he’d just happened to stumble across on the beach and was taking back to the sea.
“PUT HER DOWN!” Estelle roared at the top of her lungs. “PUT HER FUCKING DOWN!”
“She’s got to learn some time!” Her stepfather cheerfull
y chirped.
“NO. JUST LEAVE HER. JUST LEAVE HER BE. YOU BIG FUCKING BULLY!” Estelle roared.
Her stepfather soon waded up to his knees in the freezing cold water. He came to a sudden halt, seemingly not wishing to get the bottom of his shorts wet and was about to throw Gayle further in when Estelle, out of sheer desperation, swiftly and accurately threw the half bottle of vodka hard into the back of his skull.
Her Stepfather howled in pain with the thudding crack to his head. Still clutching Gayle like she was just a battery-operated ragdoll, he turned with a look of daggers and venom to face Estelle.
“You’ll fucking regret that,” her stepfather calmly stated, which actually chilled Estelle more than if he had just screamed and bawled at her instead. For a moment the two stared at each other, long and hard, dead in the eye. Finally, her stepfather let out a sly, twisted little grin, while Estelle retaliated by roaring out at him like a little lioness.
Her stepfather just laughed in her face at her raw emotion and determination. He then turned, strode a few steps further into the sea before launching Gayle as hard and as far as his upper body strength would allow into the rough sea waves.
“Swim, my little mermaid, swim!” Her stepfather sang out with a sarcastic joy.
“NOOOO!” Estelle screamed out from the shore as she watched her terrified little sister hit the water hard before sinking underneath the waves like a small bag of cement.
Her stepfather turned back to the beach again, still laughing hard to himself until his eyes fell upon Estelle. His self-amusement soon evaporated and his rage returned with a sinister vengeance. Like a big dumb raging bull, he charged straight for her.
Estelle hesitated, shocked at his sudden change in demeanor, and turned and ran too, but she wasn’t quick enough. His legs were too long and strong over the short haul and his determination far too great to catch her. After less than twenty meters, her stepfather was close enough to kick and swipe at Estelle’s legs, brutally hard, sending her crashing into the sand like a spinning lead topper.
“That’ll teach you. Fucking little cunt.”
Her Stepfather howled with more laughter before turning his back to the shore to find his lost bottle of vodka which was dragging against the shore in amongst the waves. Without even a second glance in Estelle’s direction or Gayle’s, he staggered back over to his deckchair and Estelle’s wasted mother.
Estelle wiped the tears from her eyes. She glanced at the sea and spotted Gayle screaming and bobbing up and down in the rough water. She clambered to her feet instantly. With her leg bleeding, bruised, and hurting bad, she limped her way towards the sea as fast as she could and dove straight into the cold harsh water to retrieve her little sister.
Gayle was still crying hysterically, desperately trying to breathe and stay above the continuously moving water line. Estelle finally reached her, making sure her little head was facing up into the breezy sky. She dragged her out of the water and onto the comfort and safety of the warm sandy shore…
Which was when Estelle’s thoughts gradually returned to the present day. The car she was travelling in was now picking up speed as it headed out onto the motorway, westbound, with the airport just a distant speck on the horizon behind.
Estelle thought about what kind of person her sister might have been after almost seventeen years away from each other. Perhaps she wasn’t scared of water anymore. Perhaps she’d even had some kind of therapy for her water trauma as she reached young adulthood. Jesus, she might even have been a professional swimmer by now for all she knew. Time could sometimes change some people’s inner workings over the years. But as Estelle reflected over that thought, well, she knew people. It was her job to know people better than they knew themselves, and for the majority of the planet that thought simply did not ring true. Most of the human race rarely ever changed their instilled mindsets and habits from a very young age. That was the cold hard truth of it.
And it wasn’t because Estelle never truly loved her sister that she didn’t reach out to her again or kept tabs on her after she disappeared. In all honesty, it was just too painful for her at the end of the day. It was far easier for her to move on and forget than it was to reveal herself after all those years. Gayle had always believed that her sister had died in a knife fight back in her juvenile prison days. A prison riot gone wrong. Gayle had even attended her older sister’s fake funeral and mourned her tragic death for more years than she cared to remember.
No, it was just so much easier for Estelle to move on and forget. Start afresh—a clean slate. And then perhaps, one day when she finally left her employment or eventually retired when her employers allowed her to do so, perhaps then she would eventually track down her little sister and have that long overdue reunion to end all reunions.
But that decision had been cruelly and abruptly ripped away from her now. Her sister was dead. She was alive. And the regrets about keeping that distance were beginning to seep into her veins faster than water into a sinking ship.
Estelle glanced down at the spacious rear seat beside her. There it was, that single, black, cotton balaclava with its badly cut mouthpiece. She’d almost forgotten all about it; her mind was in such a rapid overdrive with thoughts regarding her past, future, and present. All those years she’d been getting picked up and driven to the secret location, the driver had never needed to ask her, not once, for her to put it on. Yet perhaps, today, he might’ve just had to if she’d left the task any longer.
Estelle had no wish to attain that kind of black mark against her name though. Not today. And not wishing to tempt fate, Estelle eventually picked up the thick balaclava mask and eased it over her entire head.
Chapter 4
They drove for at least another two hours. She knew it was somewhere northwest of London, possibly somewhere in the Cotswolds. But she didn’t really care. She had no reason to. Her employers were good to her. They gave her never-ending places to see, missions to complete, and people to kill. All they asked for in return was her undying loyalty and devotion to them and her job. No questions asked. Whatever the task.
In return they would give her a good life. A good income. A good house. Good bonuses and an early retirement plan somewhere in her forties, if she ever made it that far. So perhaps only five years away and counting. But if she did make it to the retirement age, would they really just cut all ties with her and allow her to leave? After everything she had done. After everything she’d seen. Everything she knew. She wasn’t too convinced when she thought about it like that.
Surprisingly, they had even encouraged her to have a family on the side. If she really wanted to, that is. They’d even given her a year off to do so. But in the back of her mind she kind of always believed this was for her employer’s sake, not for hers. And something they could hold and use against her in the event that she ever did decide to refuse a job, do a runner, or go against their wishes.
Deep down in the midst of her cold black heart and soul, she knew that would never happen. She was indebted to her powerful employers, full stop. They had taken her in at a very young age after she’d given up all hope of living a normal, decent life. They had trained her. Disciplined and reconditioned her stubborn mindset. Made her into something that could finally get her out of bed in the mornings and with some mild excitement at that too, even if she was a million miles away from feeling happiness and joy. They’d at least given her something to live for again.
As Estelle reached the tail end of her twenties, she strangely found herself wanting a child though. A daughter more than anything. And of course, there were certain ways and technology to ensure that it was a girl. Perhaps deep down inside she just wanted a replacement for the little sister she had lost all those years ago when she took the decision to go through with the terrible acts that led her to juvie and her eventual new life.
Estelle had never seen her employers with her own two eyes, whoever they might be behind their masks and two-way mirrored screens. Criminals. Gangsters. P
oliticians. World leaders? Perhaps a small chain of people even more powerful than that. The ones who were really in charge and always there, through thick and thin, who had seen politicians and leaders come and go throughout the years. The ones who were really pulling the strings behind the red velvet curtains of the world and keeping the majority of the global population in check.
Always they would bring her to that same secret location. Always with her head covered and then her hands cuffed behind her back before she entered the cold underground place with its smell of damp, rust, and mold.
Inside the deep, dark underground fortress of tunnels and chambers, she was finally led into the same cold, dark basement room. But never by the driver though, she knew that much. He never left the car as far as she could tell. But always by some other man who never spoke a word and she was sure it was always the same man. Something’s always familiar about his touch, his musky smell of tobacco and cologne, the way he walked, the sound of his footsteps, and his shallow breaths.
Once inside the underground chamber someone else always took her arm, a woman usually, and she directed Estelle towards the same comfortable chair that always sat in wait of her. Her senses told her that there were always at least half a dozen other people in the room at any one time, a mixture of men and women.
Most people would be desperate to know who they were. To see their faces, look them in the eye, and see what type of human beings they were. But Estelle really didn’t give a shit. She couldn’t care less. And once the little meeting and debrief sessions were over, they would all leave. Her mask and cuffs would come off and she would be able to go about her training and research of never-ending missions with a select few team members who never ever talked about their personal lives or anything from outside the walls of the hidden underground compound unless it had something to do with the next mission, of course.
Cold Heart Page 5
