4. Lollipop

The Arsonist adjusted the lollipop in his mouth, clicking it against his teeth, while he teenager in front of him glared with her violet eyes and slouched in her seat.

“I haven’t seen anyone in weeks!” She wined. “I’m sick of your lessons. I don’t need you. I don’t want to see you. I want to leave.”

He pulled out the candy with a light sucking noise, and looked at the cherry flavored pop. “You’re like this lollipop Deesa. Hard and crunchy on the outside.” He bit to the bubblegum center and chewed for a long moment. “But once that shell is broken, you are nothing but soft candy goodness on the inside.”

When the Arsonist grinned his teeth were stained red. It made Deesa think of a lion licking its’ lips after taking down the smallest gazelle. She felt like that gazelle and she didn’t like it.

“Come with me to the training room.” He said, holding out his hand. She would never take it, but he made the gesture anyway.

Deesa stood and followed him, keeping her distance. The training room was full of weight lifting equipment and punching bags. They would work out together for hours without rest, and he would teach her how to endure and fight.

At first she only did it so that she could learn how to fight even better, and would be able to sneak away from the Arsonist. She planned to fight him if she had to. There were some things she knew that she never showed him. Deesa kept her knowledge of fighting dirty a tightly held secret. She loved switchblades.

He taught her martial arts, boxing, and eventually knife fighting. He taught her how to be elegant and how to blend in with high society. They worked for hours trying to rid her of the obnoxious New York accent that betrayed her origins. It never completely went away, but after years of practice it did fade into the background of her speech patterns, less noticeable.

Somewhere along the way things changed for her. She began to forget that she wanted to leave. What was waiting for her out there anyway? More homelessness, more scraping for a living, begging? Living on the streets again did not appeal to her. At least here she was being given the tools she needed to survive. She had a companion that she could always count on, and that security was something she had never had before. Ever so slowly the Arsonist and the young woman became friends, although the Arsonist was always the teacher, and Deesa the pupil.

After a time, the Arsonist did release Deesa out into the world. She returned ‘home’ that same night. No longer prisoner, she liked the safety and comfort of having a place to live. He knew then that she would always return home, and that he could trust her with the next phase of her training. The Arsonist began teaching Deesa her history lessons. Although the history he told her about is not something you will ever read in school. Hidden wars, major players in a struggle to survive, and a desperate need for strong fighters like he had turned Deesa into.