On A Mission

Joséphine Gauthier, 17 years old has a french dad and a brittish mother. But her mother is not really the normal-housewife-mother, not at all. Since the age of 3, Joséphine has received the best practice she could ever have, so that one day, she could do the same job as her mother. I think you got it by now, she is kind of a spy. When you learn that you have a mortal malady, and that you have no choice but to accept all the missions you're offered, the last thing you want to do is to fall in love and get attached.

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7. Somewhere only we know

"Alcohol, tobacco and drugs are strongly discouraged, as it could diminish life expectancy even more. Please take this information seriously and follow the instructions of security to guarantee the survival of the patient"

•••

The park in my town was really beautiful. Especially in my special place near the lake. I always came here when I had to think. And believe me, I really had to think, now. You probably wonder what my special place is? Well, it's sort of a stone hill, with a "cave" on the top. It may sound weird, but really beautiful; it's hidden by flowers and plants, and have a premium view on the lake. It's my place, I haven't shown it to anybody (who would I show it to?), so I'm quite sure nobody knows it besides me. Plus, it's hard to get to it; you have to climb pretty much- yes it's a really big park, far away from the center town-, and since I train climbing at least two hours per week-

"What are you doing here?!" Harry yelled as his head popped out from the plants that formed a door.

"What are YOU doing here?! How do you know this place?" I almost yelled, confused and angry that someone else knew my special place.

"I've known this place forever. My aunt lives in this town, every time I visited her I used to come here. It's my place"

"No, it's not!"

"Is too." He simply said and got in to sit beside me. "And how do you know this place?"

"Well..." Should I say it? I think it would be better. "I first came here when my dad started hitting me." His face became suddenly serious.

"Let me see" he said.

"What?"

"What he did to you the last time?" The anger in his eyes had transformed into care. I lifted up my shirt just under my bra, letting him see the last bruise dad gave me. The memories came back like a wave of salt water in the face.

***

"Joséphine I'm still waiting for that beer!" Dad yelled aggressively trough the house. I was holding the paper tight in both of my hands, tears rolling down my face, onto the letter. 'Alcohol, tobacco and drugs are strongly discouraged, as it could diminish life expectancy even more. Please take this information seriously and follow the instructions of security to guarantee the survival of the patient'. That's the only part of the letter that made sense for me. Dad was maybe going to die. Even if I hated him for hitting me, he was still my dad, and in the depths of myself, I loved him.  "It's not good for you, dad" I said to him as I walked into the living room. He slowly turned his face to look me in the eyes. "What did you just say?" "I said that you shouldn't be drinking" His face was now red and he started to get up and walked towards me. "And you shouldn't be telling me what to do!" He screamed, and then he hit me in the stomach so hard, I fell to the ground. I got up straight away and punched my dad in the face as hard as I could. He didn't fall, but he was intimidated, and that was enough for the moment. At least he didn't drink that beer. We stayed staring at each other, with clenched fists and breathing hard, until I felt the tears welling up, and left before Dad could see it.

***

"This is bad, Jo." Harry said. I hadn't noticed he was touching the bruise until I felt the pain and the shivering in the same time.

"I know. Can we not talk about it anymore" I said putting my shirt right again.

"Sure" he mumbled.

My phone ringing interrupted the silence that followed.

"Speaking."

"Hey Jo, it's me"

"What do you want mom?"

"I have bad news"

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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