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THIRTY-FIVE

Alderney State Penitentiary,

Dear Amethyst,

Thank you for your blessing. I will maintain the boundary you set. When I stroke my cock, I will not make eye contact with the prison guard. Instead, I will close my eyes and think of you. You own my heart, my mind, my body… My very soul.

One day, Officer McMurphy will regret the moment she decided to exploit my solitude for her sexual satisfaction. The next time she approaches me on her hands and knees, she will lose an eye.

Congratulations on finding an agent. You mentioned that you enjoyed writing, but I had no idea it was more than a hobby. Have you published before? I would love to read your work.

Yes, the school for assassins is exactly as described. We learned self-defense, poisons, anatomy and basic physiology, and how to blend seamlessly into any crowd.

The most valuable thing they taught us was the art of manipulation—how to lure a target, isolate them, and strike when they least expected the blow.

Before you ask if my father knew the true nature of the school, you need to understand that he was its founder. He and a group of associates run a firm of assassins that take in new recruits around the age of fourteen.

My father wanted a younger intake that was more malleable and easier to shape into the perfect weapon. The years I spent being bullied by the brothers and their cohorts were nothing more than an elaborate plot to prepare me for his shiny new program.

I excelled at the training and even gained the admiration of my peers. My time at this school for assassins was happier, but I knew it was a product of his manipulations.

Each time I killed a man, I imagined he was my father. Each successful mission tore a little piece of my soul. I lost my childhood, my humanity dissolving into the flow of blood on my hands. Over time, I even lost the will to destroy my father.

Fan questions:

Am I mistaking love for limerence? That’s an insightful question. Let me answer with a question of my own. Is it limerence if the feelings of that obsessive attachment are reciprocated? The love I had for my mother is real and still endures. She loved me until the day she died.

I expect the questioner wants to know about my romantic connections. The life of a killer is lonely, and showing vulnerabilities will be exploited. That said, I have found a woman for whom I feel a desperate longing. She doesn’t just see past my darkness, she embraces it. She is the one who shares my message with the world.

In answer to the second question: I’m not sure what happened to Bianca the cat. After my mother died, I moved into my father’s house, never to return. Her owners treated her well, and I like to hope she lived a happy life and died of natural causes.

Yours,

Xero

P.S. I will send the photos you asked for as soon as I can. Hopefully, some will work as backgrounds for the fan club.