Page 12 of Johnny

She doesn’t.

“There,” I say. “I did my part.”

And then I walk out and go back the way I came.

CHAPTER TWO - MEGAN

There are only two kinds of people in the world.

Those willing to see the truth and those who refuse to see it.

I don’t need to know this guy to really know this guy.

I would be able to call it no matter what.

He has no problem seeing the truth.

I am just some dumb, worthless fucking bitch who probably didn’t do her job.

Fine. I can accept that. It’s probably more accurate than it isn’t.

You don’t get dragged out of your home in the middle of the night because you are doing your job,

right? But they didn’t tell me anything. Didn’t give a single reason why a gag was stuffed in my mouth,

a hood was yanked over my head, and my wrists were zip-tied so tight, they were numb within

minutes.

But they don’t need to give me a reason.

When they come for you like this the reason should be self-evident. And I guess that falls under the

umbrella of “not doing my job”.

I just went along. Did everything my father taught me growing up. I said nothing. I didn’t try to

escape. I didn’t even resist.

When you’re born into an organization like the Way, you have very few options.

So fuck this guy. He doesn’t know me. He has no right to judge me.

A tickle on my neck draws me back to the present. I wipe my finger across my throat and see

blood. Probably from the metal shards that flew up and hit me when my asshat rescuer decided to

shoot the chains off the wall. There’s probably bits of concrete embedded in my skin too.

Thanks, jerk.

Thanks for freeing me and then leaving me to die a billion levels below ground. Sure do

appreciate that.

I can appreciate the irony of it, at least.

I get it. You want something done, you gotta do it yourself.