28 Irreparable (1/2)

There was a moment of silence between us. His eyes were earnest as he stared at me, yet there was this underlying confidence in them that screamed for me to prove him wrong.

”I spent years of my time learning languages so that I can understand different cultures and help people. I am not going to change my life because you think I am good at something, Mr. Butler. I am content with my lot.”

My voice was firmer than I had anticipated. I sighed when his response didn't come.

”I am sorry… I just don't think my thirst for knowledge leads me to become your assistant. My dreams don't take me there,” I told him in a gentler voice. I wished to pacify him, to make him understand how irreparable and impossible it was for me to be in a position of power, in one I didn't deserve… where one mistake could lead to the desecration of lives.

”You deny your passion for this line of work,” he stated simply. ”A lot of people change their careers because they don't find it interesting once they join. I was one of the people who are equally if not more in love with my dream than I was when I had no experience.”

”A lot of people change their careers, yes, but that doesn't mean they are happy with what they chose. Experience decays the illusions they have about the grandiose nature of the job they chose. It becomes a chore. I don't want to risk my life's work for a moment of thrill, to delude myself into thinking that I can somehow enjoy this work, when clearly… I am not cut out for it.”

I had assumed my logic would defeat him, but it didn't.

”Good. That is what I want to say, as well,” he smiled a small smile, elated that he could somehow twist my words into something else altogether. ”I don't want you to change your line of work. I want you to assist me in translating documents for my research and help me in during interviews of people who speak different languages. I am not asking you to put yourself on the line and solve cases. You are not trained for it. I just want you to use your talent in a place where you are appreciated and paid properly.” He shrugged.

I took a shuddering breath as I went over his words in my head.

”I… don't think I can handle working with you, Mr. Butler.” My voice was a whisper. I didn't dare look at him to check if he had heard me or not. He would have to figure out my answer if it hadn't reached him.

Images of bloodied ropes, blades and limbs hanging off bodies evaded my mind. I felt anger. I felt disgust. And I felt yearning.