Knowing Who I Am

By A.G. Allen

Faith "Rosie" Miller survived but is still reeling from the accident that killed her mother and brother four years ago. Her father blames her for their deaths and neglected her for years. Everything is made more complicated when she gets caught burglarizing a home to feed herself. Frank, a recruiter for a secret agency, rescues her before she's

• Language: English
• Publisher: agallen
• Release date: Mar 15, 2024
• ISBN: 9798869241351

Book preview

Knowing Who I Am

By A.G. Allen

Knowing Who I am Copyright © 2024 by A.G. Allen.

All rights reserved. Printed in the United States. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

TITLES BY A.G. ALLEN

SHADOW OF ALLIANCE

Descendant of the Alliance

Rising Against the Alliance

Knowing Who I am

Becoming Me

Dedication

To all my readers, from the first book to where we are now.

You know who you are. Thanks,

To all four of my kids who keep asking what it is

I’m doing with my time. All of this is for you.

And to my husband, who inspires me to do my best in life.

Chapter

1

Scared of being caught, my dark brown eyes, hidden behind the black disguise, bulged. I continued running from the officers, my eyes fixated in front of me on the next object or person I needed to dodge. Both sides of my cheeks were heated. I had to outrun the police. Run for my freedom.

There were two officers in black uniforms. All of them were young and slim, suggesting they could outrun me. The men with their guns were twenty yards away. A little toddler on a bicycle passed me, slowing down to watch the chaos. Fifteen yards, ten yards. They were gaining on me.

Ten yards behind me, I saw the officers reach to their side holsters, yelling, Taser! Taser! Then I heard a loud buzzing sound whiz past my ears and knew one of them tried to hit me with his taser.

It was one o’clock in the afternoon on a warm April afternoon. The sidewalk curved in and out of the great oak trees nestled up to the wealthy neighborhoods far from the city streets. These houses weren’t homes, not ones that were cozy and warm and meant to raise families in. Instead, these were houses the rich showed off just for pleasure, and they felt cold and unwelcoming inside. The only appeal these houses held for me was what was inside of them: belongings I needed to keep myself alive.

You know that famous saying, Survival of the fittest? I’m living proof of it. Here I was, eighteen years old, with no family except a dad who I hardly saw, no food, and no home to call my own.

My father cared less about me and more about working out on the oil rig outside our small city in Billings, Montana. But what’s there to say about the old man? He forgot that I even existed. He never called, never brought home food for me, and never spoke to me, not after the accident that took my brother and mother. Sometimes I wondered if he wished I died in the accident too. He looked at me as if my mothers and brother’s death were my fault. And maybe it was, because I don’t recall much of what happened that day. Why I was the only survivor is beyond me. I can’t even remember what my life was like before the accident.

One of the officers who was ten yards back started to slow down. His face was white and distorted from running for so long. A red flash burned behind the darkness of his eyes. I grinned as I kept weaving in and out of the trees, hoping to lose the other redheaded officer.

My two friends, Elise Wallace and Henry Florence, were far ahead of me. Elise and I had been friends since we were five years old. Our backyards connected from behind. And Henry . . . well, Henry was my boyfriend, who happened to be two years older than me. He lived a few blocks away from my house in the suburb where we grew up together.

By now, I should have spotted them in a nearby getaway car. Henry always made the plans, Elise was good with computers, and I executed the scheme. I was the fastest of the three. My P.E. coach always told me I should try out for nationals in track. I could run a 5k in sixteen minutes flat without even practicing. I don’t know why running came naturally to me, but it had always been that way. Since I was three, I was the fastest runner in any race my father put me in. I bet if I practiced every day, I could run it even faster.

As the blond police officer, slowed, I began to feel slightly relieved that I was out of the park and he was giving up. From the corner of my eye, I could see the officer lift his taser and fire a shot before I could blink. I knew it was too late to move in another direction.

Thunk! I hit the lilies and grass like a branch falling from of a tree. One Mississippi, two Mississippi, three Mississippi, four Mississippi, five Mississippi. The electrical current from the taser held throughout my body for five minutes. After that, my muscles started to spasm, muscle spasms I couldn’t control.

A crackle came over the blonde-haired, freckled officer’s walkie-talkie. I have a 10-48, do you copy?

Copy that.

Pleased with himself, the officer stepped over my limp body, kicked my legs apart, reached for my arms, and started to zip-tie them together. As I expected, the first thing he did was lift the mask to uncover my face. He hurled backwards, astonished to see a brown-eyed, brown-haired, eighteen-year-old girl under the cloth. He grabbed my black backpack, reaching in and grabbing the watches, rings, iPads, and other electronic gadgets I managed to pick up from one of the homes I ransacked. He stopped to listen. Police sirens replaced the sounds of the forest.

I listened closely to the echoes around me. Finally, I grew restless and mentally shook my head. I got caught. How stupid of me to do this last run. Why did I always let my friends convince me to do the dumbest stuff?

When the other slim officer came to help the blond-headed one lift me, I saw that Henry and Elise were not waiting for me at our rendezvous spot; there was no car. And for the first time in my life, my heart dropped to my stomach, and I knew I wouldn’t be okay. Not this time.

I waved to the boy on his little tricycle in the distance that I ran by earlier. His eyes sparkled with curiosity. I ached to be him right now. Living in a safe neighborhood, riding my cherry red tricycle… But that was only a wishful thought.

We’ve got you now, the redheaded officer said.

I smile back, which is not out of character for me. I’m the type of person who finds pleasure in sarcasm. So, naturally, I looked over my shoulder at him as he began to cuff me.

Trust me, you will be unlocking me out of these metal rings faster than you put them on. You’re making a mistake.

When looked back at him, I didn’t like what I saw. His smile was cold and full of farce, as if he had won a prize. Not today, sweetheart. We’ve got a big surprise for you.

He nodded, pushing my head down as I was shoved into his vehicle. As soon as I heard the engine rumble, I knew he was right. The station chief warned me he wouldn’t give me another chance, not when I had a significant record. I wondered if he was going to keep his word this time.

Chapter

2

Time: two o’clock. The bare room contained one small, round table and a couple of basic plastic chairs and light green walls. Over in the upper right corner, just above the door, was a camera with a red light flashing, alerting me others were watching my every move. The police stationed smelt the same, cigarettes and body odor. This wasn’t my first rodeo being in an interrogation room.

My left leg jumped with a nervous tick, and my heart beat at rapid speed. curious why I felt lost and secluded. This was the longest time I had ever waited in this room. What was going on out there that was more important than me? Two hours had passed, and I managed to grab a nap.

My adrenaline wearing away always made me crash hard.

The more I sat at the chair, the more I hated not knowing what was taking so long and why I was here. Henry coaxed me into this, and my anger for him picked at my brain, encouraging me to never see him again.

I tucked my hands across my neck and looked up at the clock, counting the numbers several more times to keep myself from going insane. I hoped Charley didn’t keep his word book me into jail. I didn’t think I could survive jail.

Buzz. I heard the turn of the handle twist open and was ready to speak to the chief.

The burning in my throat worsened as I saw a broad, ill-natured face with weather-beaten tan skin; his arms bulged out of his white buttoned up shirt, and his brown hair was combed to the side. He couldn’t be more than a few years older than me. But I looked older than my age. Henry and my father always told me that. Henry said I was more mature than the average girl, and that’s why he dated me.

You’re not Charlie, I said, displeased with this stranger being in the room alone with me. Although after he stepped closer, my displeasure changed into something else. He was by far the most handsome man I had ever seen in person. My mind must be swirling from exhaustion. Why would I ever think a man detaining me would be hot? I definitely needed to get out of here before I started thinking other things my mind wouldn’t be able to comprehend.

He turned his head slyly to the door, and I leaned over and noticed him staring at the camera. Not a second later, the red light shut off. He rolled his eyes, walking closer to me.

The closer he came to me, the more my heart went into an atrial flutter inside my chest. I didn’t know why this man was making my body feel all frazzled inside. I’d never felt this way before. Not even with my own boyfriend, Henry. I needed to stop these feeling and control myself.

I jerked myself back to reality. Who are you? Let me out of here! I roared.

The blood in my body pumped faster, not sure what mistreatment I was about to receive. Whatever this man was here for was not good; anyone knew that. Police stations don’t shut off cameras in an interrogation room. Not unless they were going to kill you, bribe you, or rape you. It’s against the law to turn them off. At least I think it’s against the law? I don’t know much about the law, clearly; I seem to only know how to break it. Whatever the reason, I felt uncomfortable being alone with this man.

He smiled as he stood tall across from me. I tried to sit more upright, praying he wouldn’t notice what he did to my insides.

Faith Miller.

Dang, even his deep, masculine voice made my feet and hands tingle in places I didn’t know they could. But hearing my real name come from his lips made all his handsomeness vanish . . . just like that. I loathed my real name.

I cringed some more, not wanting to even look at the man. My friends all called me Rosie, my middle name. I hated going by my real name, Faith. I turned my head back towards him but said nothing, just gave him a callous stare. What do you say to man who knows your name, yet you know nothing about him? He had a folder in his hand, and I’m sure it told him everything about my criminal life.

Charlie won’t be working with you today, I’m afraid. My name’s Frank, and I will be handling your cases from here on out.

I tore my eyes away from his navy blue ones and rested my cheek on my shoulder, shutting my eyes for a moment. I was annoyed that I had to deal with someone new, someone I had never seen on this side of town. Even with his charms, I didn’t like this. Charlie always got me off. He knew my dad and always had a weakness for me, given my living circumstances, and let me go with a few hours of community service. Strangely, I knew this man was going to change all that.

He pulled the dark blue plastic chair out from under the table and sat across the table from me. His eyes were striking. I had never seen anyone with eyes that deep of a navy blue. He threw a large, brown folder on top of the table and rummaged through the materials inside. His elbows rested on the table, and he looked right at me, eyeing me like he’s met me before. One he isn’t getting out of me, not when I need to process what is happening and why Charley isn’t here.

Well, Faith, it looks like you have quite a rap sheet here. He picked up some papers from the brown folder and threw them in front of me. This is your sixth arrest. Only this time you were caught for burglary and attempting to flee a police officer.

I could hear in his voice that he thought my rap sheet was one for the books given my young age. When he said six arrests, his voice went all hoarse.

So?

So, you have put Charlie in a position where he will lose his job because he’s let you off so many times without pressing charges.

"What? I don’t want him to lose his job because of me. What are you saying?" I felt ashamed for getting Charlie in trouble. He was such a kind man, always looking for the good in people. I should have never done this run. Gosh, why did I have to ruin someone’s else’s life? Could I ever catch a break?

He raised his hand, ordering me to calm down. I wished for those large hands to be around mine; that would calm me down quickly. Dang it! What was wrong with me? Why would such a strange thought pop in my head like that, one that should be burned away forever and never return?

Or I have another option for you that will clear all this away. Every word he said echoed dismally in the quietness.

I raised my eyebrows, curious to know his proposition. I couldn’t even move because I was sort of afraid, I’d do something wrong. Go on.

Frank cleared his throat again. He seemed nervous, like maybe this was his first-time interrogating someone. His hands were shaking as he shuffled the papers.

As I was saying, he said, smiling as I stayed transfixed on his words, "this is your sixth arrest. But this time the family you have stolen from is pressing charges against you. Now, as it is, I have a way to get all these accusations against you dropped, and you won’t have to serve jail time or see a day in court."

His words made my insides jerk with hope. He must be my savoir. He was handsome, and now he was convincing me that I had another way out of this mess I had gotten myself in.

Okay, hold it right there, I said, alarmed. I can’t go to jail. My father already hates me enough. If—

He interrupted me as he continued to read from the brown file. Aggravated assault, joy riding, and four counts of burglary. Now, the way the system sees it, we can process you as an adult for having all these charges against you. Especially since you have a previous battery assault charge that Charlie pushed under the desk around your eighteenth birthday.

I can’t go to jail! I hissed across the table, upset he was threatening me. His words made me feel unstable, unsure if he was here to help me or not. Please let me see Charlie.

He waved his hands. Faith, you need to calm down, he said. Is it true your criminal behavior only began after your mother and brother died in a car accident three years ago?

I froze. I turned and looked at him, not believing what he was saying. His words threw me in a loop, and I suddenly felt like I was suffocating. Him bringing up the past hurt me even more. For years I’d been trying to run away from it, and now it was all coming back with a sharp jab to my soul.

Don’t act like we don’t know about your family’s car accident. Your father wants nothing to do with you from what your file says. Charlie has made it very clear in his notes your father refuses to retrieve you. And now Charlie wants to throw you in jail. Says it will be easier on him knowing you’re safer there than out in the streets.

His rambling was making my breathing pick up. But he kept going, he kept poking the bear. I guess a man who works on an oil rig never has time for his only surviving child.

The world around me halted. I wanted to go home and crawl in my bed. I had hoped to the accident would never come up. Memories of my mother and brother fogged my brain.

I could never get past the same old memory. A dark, cold winter night, colorful lights reflecting off the cars around my father’s. Not far away from me, I saw two stretchers take away my brother and mother.

I still remember it so clearly: the emotions my father felt as he fell to the ground, screaming in agony for something he would never have again. That was the day he changed and never could look at me the same. I reminded him too much of my mother. He wasn’t even at my bedside in the hospital for the next two days I was there.

That day is still blurry for me. I can’t recall what exactly happened that caused the accident. I’ve always just assumed it was my fault because of how my dad’s treated me all these years. He always says if I kept my mouth shut, my brother and mother would be here. That’s basically the last sentence he ever said to me in the last few years.

The harder I tried to recall what happened that night, the more my body shook and weakened. It’s been a year since I’ve even wanted to try again because I end up sleeping for hours after, no matter the time of day. It always emotionally drains me to think of that day, even though I can’t remember it.

During my hospital stay, the doctors thought I was going to need a blood transfusion, which ended up being unnecessary since my body healed much faster than they had anticipated. I ended up with two broken ribs, a brain clot, and a large wound on my stomach from the metal handle impaling my body. I lost a lot of blood, and I still have a scar. I was in a coma for two days. They called my recovery a miracle. A miracle. A word I don’t think was accurate when I had lost so much in one night. And have no memory of since.

Frank raised his voice slightly. Faith! Faith! My thoughts came back to reality. Look at this. He pulled more photos out of another yellow folder that read classified in the center. Here are photos of the man you beat up in an alleyway who assaulted the elderly woman you saved. Only you took the hit, the predator got away, and the elderly woman thought it was you who beat her up and she called the cops. All of this caught on the street’s surveillance videos. Exhibit B: this photo shows you driving your neighbor’s Ferrari, but from other street cameras, we can see your boyfriend Henry was the driver up until the cops pulled the two of you over and you apparently decided to switch places and take the heat.

When he finally stops talking, I close the folder and chuck the photos back over to him.

I lift my shoulders. What’s your point here? You think I’m the good girl?

He smiled and placed his hand over his mouth while he leaned on the table, locking his eyes with mine.

My point here, Miss Miller, is that you are doing acts of good, only to get caught in the wrong.

Stop it right there, cowboy!

He chuckles at my words.

I am here today because I burglarized a house. I didn’t save anyone or give what I stole to the poor like Robin Hood. Trust me when I say I am not a good person—

He shook his head as he cut me off. We both know you are stealing only to provide for yourself. You need the money to survive. Your father is never home, never brings home food or pays the bills. He’s always off drinking or spending whatever he earns on himself.

Stop it, will you! My self-image was being ruined by some stranger. Everyone who knows me knows that I am a terrible person. I didn’t need this person ruining my reputation. It was making me feel all kinds of weirdness. Maybe I did want attention. My father treated me like dirt, and all I wanted was for him to see me like his daughter. Can you just tell me what I need to do to avoid jail time?

Frank smiled sympathetically. He got to his feet. In this case, Faith, I won’t waste any more of your time or mine. I work for an off-the-record government agency that is top secret. My project, known as the Spartacus project, works with young adults and has been around for the last hundred years. I’m a handler who helps train young adults to become spies.

The tension filling the unwelcoming room broke, and I began to laugh hysterically.

I am not joking, Faith, he said. I understand your disbelief in what I am offering you here, but the way that I see it, this might be the only way to keep you off the streets and in a better living situation.

I stopped chuckling and cleared my throat loudly. His charm and good looks went out the door when he said my first name but hearing that I would have a place to live was making his proposition sound good to me.

Er, maybe this is not the time for you to enroll…no…no never mind, he said, seeming to change his mind suddenly. Where was I? Ah yes, the school. Well, you must know that joining this school involves top secrecy, at which point you will be cut off your usual activities.

What does that mean?

No college, he continued, "and no friends."

When you hear the word spy, you think your first reaction would be excitement. Who wouldn’t want to become a spy? Instead, my reaction was wanting to vomit. If only I had something inside my stomach to throw up. I hadn’t eaten in almost twenty hours.

I was starting to become aware of the options in front of me: jail or becoming a spy. I fell back against my seat, exhausted by the two choices. Jail was out of the question; no way I would survive that place. And being a spy was suicide. No one lives to tell those tales.

I must clarify once more that our program is not government run. We are independent subcontractors to the government, and they know nothing about our agents in this school. That is how top secret our agency’s database is. We recruit young adults to this program because they go unnoticed in our society, blend in where we place them. Not once has anyone ever suspected the people we have recruited. We are a close-knit agency and want to keep it that way.

Frank paused and looked over at me. But I sat there, not sure if what I was hearing was all true. I start to worry that if he kept talking, I would pass out... There was no way that any of this was true. It had to be some ploy. I don’t know how they would do this, but Elise can pull of anything.

I shook my head. "What happens if I say no? You kill me for knowing about the school that’s so top secret." I lifted my fingers mockingly.

Frank laughed. I love your sarcasm, but no. I will stick you with this needle, which will wipe your memory for the past hour, and you will be off serving time in jail. He leaned forward, tipping his head towards me. "No one knows about these photos showing your innocence, and I can quickly make them disappear, the same way I got them here. In my line of work I was able