"Lesson Learned" by Carly S

Waking up with a dagger at your throat was precisely as terrifying it sounded.

That's what most people thought when they first met her like this, he thought, as he woke up to the cold sting of the sharp object at his throat.

He'd known she would come for him eventually. He could only stay on everyone's good side for so long.

And he knew exactly who sent her. It was undoubtedly the victim of his unrestricted outburst this afternoon: the maid.

She had happened to enter his room after a particularly frustrating conversation with his father, and ended up cowering on the floor as he raised his hand to strike her a second time. He had hit her before, but that was long ago, before he had adopted a more tolerable attitude towards his workers once he realized how expensive it was to replace one if they died. After him treating her so forgivingly for so long, it was especially frightening for her to be hit again.

But after he left, he had wondered if he would be killed tonight. He simply dismissed it, however, believing she didn't have enough money in her possession to pay for the service.

But it was made clear she did, as proven by the assassin staring down at him, pressing the dagger into his neck with enough force that he felt it draw blood, felt it run down his neck and onto the bed.

He wondered if it was her who had slit his mother's throat that night not even a year ago. The girl's presence reopened the wound, and he found himself clenching his fists at the chance to get his revenge. But he couldn’t do anything in this position; one move and he would end up just like his mother, throat slashed and left to choke on blood as he attempted to call for help.

So he just stared at her, daring her to finish him off with his fierce eyes. He saw her jaw clench through the mask, whether in contemplation or annoyance or something else, he was unsure. The cloth covered her mouth and nose, wrapping around the back of her head and disappearing beneath her short hair that looked hastily cut, possibly even sheared by the weapon that edged closer to cutting into his throat.

"Do it," he forced out. "Get it over with." He spoke loud to distract her from the noise of his shifting as he reached for the sheath he kept around his thigh.

She saw what he was doing though, she would be blind if she didn’t. Did he really think she was so lowly trained she wouldn’t feel the entire bed move as he reached for the empty sheath?

She grinned as his eyes widened, just now realizing he was weaponless. It would have been reckless going into this exchange knowing he had a weapon in reach; she'd watched him train, and he was quite skilled with the knife he kept on his thigh.

He exhaled deeply, accepting his fate. He didn’t particularly care for the silence, though.

"What are you waiting for?" he asked.

"Do you know who I am?" she whispered through the mask.

"You're the assassin here to kill me, have you forgotten why you're here?" he quipped.

She didn’t reply immediately, just pressed a little harder on the dagger, pushing it deeper, but not yet enough to kill.

Without breaking eye contact, she pulled the cloth down under her chin.

"How about now."

He didn’t believe what he saw. Before him was the daughter of his previous maid, the reason he stopped beating his servants for a while. Like he said, they were expensive to replace if they died, whether from natural causes or his own rage.

Her face seemed to have gained a certain maturity that almost scared him. She was not the girl from all those years ago, the one who happily assisted her mother in her work, but refused to officially work for his father. He could easily guess what brought that hardness that destroyed the fragility of her childhood. If anything, he couldn’t forget it, it replayed in his nightmares all the time.

The day she walked in on him beating her mother to death.

And no matter what his heart told him, his mind repeated that it was her fault, that she deserved it. That if she had been more careful and not spilled his tea all over his work, she would not have been thrown to the ground and kicked until one blow to the head silenced her screams. He had stared at her lifeless body, and no later than he felt the regret starting to overtake him, another scream began. She didn’t stop until the guards carried her out and threw her into the street.

And she got her revenge, not yet a full year ago, by taking his mother.

"Just do it," he ignored her question and clenched his teeth.

Her sudden smile worried him. "Oh no. For now, you will suffer."

"How much did she pay you, I'll double it," he attempted.

Shaking her head, she moved the dagger to his side and pressed it into him. He screamed for a split second before she shoved her mask in his mouth and pushed harder until he passed out.

He woke in the morning to commotion outside his room. He would have believed last night was a dream if it weren't for the stitched stab wound in his side.

He exited his room and followed a group of guards as they rushed past. He got more concerned as he neared his father's sleeping chamber. What he saw inside only reassured him more that the night before had in fact been a reality.

Inside was his father laying in bed, throat cut open just like his mother's had been.

He couldn't help but to collapse to the floor in the doorway, remembering her words from last night.

"For now, you will suffer."