It was supposed to be a pyre. A fire for the dead. The mansion hadn’t lasted long against the fire. While it had burned for a long enough time, it was down to the foundation by the time it left my sight. It ended the reign of terror that had lasted for five days.

Now, to have a let down, a break from that—it is only so much of a relief.

“Now…your file indicates that your name is Trilby—do you have another name I could use?”

I didn’t even pause to consider. I don’t have a name. I used to have one, and while the Ministry has it, it has been classified—and I prefer to keep it that way.

“No.”

I wouldn’t even think of suggesting my other name, Terence Railby. I have no doubt that the therapist would have read my notes. He knows that I use that name for undercover work.

In this office, my name is Trilby.

The therapist adjusts his glasses and eyes my folder. “Very well, Trilby.” He looks at me. I have been tempted many times to steal that folder and eradicate my name from the Ministry’s files. I have not done so, and I doubt I will, unless a change in my situation occurs. “Now, tell me…what have you been up to lately?”

I watch him, searching for any hint of what his intentions are.

I’m not sure what to tell him. He should know that my last missions went by successfully—I’m here, alive and well, after all—and I am not inclined to tell him about my private life.

Unfortunately, it seems that he wants to know about my private life.

“What do you want me to tell you?” I ask. “You know as well as I do that my missions are classified.”

“Trilby, both you and I know that wasn’t what I meant.” He chides. “Let’s not insult either of our intelligences by doing that.”

It takes a moment for me to restrain my growing irritation. He knows as well as I do that I don’t want or need to be here. My business is my business.

“Am I fit for my missions?” I ask. It is a thinly veiled attempt to get out of here earlier. I know he knows I’m not bothering to try harder.

He frowns at me. “Trilby, you know as well as I do that my job is to keep you fit for duty, not just declare you fit. I am attempting to treat the source, not the symptoms.”

Before I can express my doubt in his abilities to erase my memories, he raises a hand.

“All I want you to do is try to get out of your home more often, Trilby. Just try to go shopping, or do something normal. That’s all.”

Reluctantly, I nod.

It isn’t about removing my memories. As much as I would like to forget, I cannot. Perhaps Dr. Patel is right.

We will see if a so called “normal” task agrees with me.