The Space Spoon novel Chapter 46

Dressed in one of her favorite dresses, Shayla danced on a checkered floor. Men and women crowded the stage as she glided upon it. Even though the top of her head barely reached their waists, little Shayla touched the targeted areas for quick, painless kills. Holding the folds of her garment with one hand, she slashed and dashed between the dancers with a dagger in the other. Only when she was the last one standing did she stop.

Looking upon the carnage she had painted, little Shayla smiled.

"Great performance, sweety." Her father drew closer, applauding. "Your show has been perfect lately."

Her smile widened at her father’s praise. Nothing made her happier than these rare moments when she had all his attention on her. She blushed, her cheeks now as red as her garment woven with golden threads and shiny ruffles.

"In the last month, I've gotten perfect scores on every simulation." She beamed at her father. "Would it be possible to reset the computer to remove all of this gore from my dress?"

About two years ago, when Shayla was six, she had started her training. Back then, she was squeamish about seeing so much blood. But she was immune to all that now. She just wanted her gown back to normal.

Her father gave the voice command. "Computer, end simulation."

The black and white checkered floor faded into a faint grey, and the victims vanished one by one.

Shayla looked again at her hands and dress. They were less smudged now, but still not quite clean. As she gazed upon the floor, she saw that a body was still there. She gasped. "What is this?" She looked in dismay at the body on the floor. "Computer, report errors."

"No errors. Simulation stopped successfully."

"Shayla, congratulations!” Her father pointed toward the corpse. “You've just assassinated one of our adversaries. You have now completed the second phase of your training." He put his hand on her shoulder. "You must keep in mind that you must act. Only by action can a man become a hero. Death shouldn't terrify you. Only through death can a man become a legend. When the dust settles upon the legend, it becomes a myth. Do you want to be the stuff of myths and legends?"

"I'm not a man," Shayla stated, with sadness in her dark green eyes. She combed her hair with her fingers. Blood covered some of her ebony strands. The shock shook her core when she realized it was real and not just a simulation. She gazed upon her crimson hands. She could wash away the blood. Could the stain on her soul ever be cleaned? Tears streamed down her cheeks.

"I wish I had a boy, but you're the only child I have. So quit crying and grow a pair!" her father yelled and punched her in the face.

As her ass slapped onto the hard floor, the muscles in her back bunched. Her spine hurt almost as much as her cheekbone. She knew he didn’t hit her hard enough to leave any bruises. ‘All a woman has is her looks,’ her father always said.