Rebecca doesn't know I'm alive. She doesn't know I'm looking right at her, studying her every move. She has no clue that I'm spying on her, or that her soul is in danger.
"Gather information about the child. Find out her strengths, her weaknesses, her fears, and tell me all about them," the Black Mistress had said last night.
I didn't like her request, but after she melted Sissy's body for speaking up, for resisting, I had no choice but to listen and obey. The stench of burnt chemicals from the pile of melted plastic floated around us.
Sissy...
I rubbed the stitch lining of my cloth fingers to keep them from shaking. "But Mistress," I said before swallowing hard, "Rebecca doesn't have strengths or weakness. She's only seven years old."
The Black Mistress smiled and cocked her head at me. "My dear sweet Aisha. All children have strengths and weaknesses. You just have to pay attention."
12 comments:
Post a Comment