You are Mira Kucher

You stand there, stunned. You open your eyes uncertain of how much time has passed. You examine yourself. You are Mira Kucher, but you haven't always been.

You remember now. You were born Dana Grice. You childhood hadn't been pretty. Your mother died when you were seven. Your father began **** you when you were thirteen. At fifteen you slit his throat. You ran.

With no job and no money you had sold yourself. With a nearby spaceport there were many travelers, many customers. You killed your first man, well second, by accident. He had asked you to be rough, to strangle him. You knew there was a chance he could die. What surprised you was that when he did you fucking came.

You quickly got very good a figuring out which clients were expendable, fucking them, and killing them. You'd gotten very good at cleanup as well. One hundred and twenty seven men died by your hand. Then you had made a mistake. You killed the scion of a wealthy family.

Once they caught you they began to realize it hadn't been your first. You were found guilty and mindwiped.

That is when you became Sara Kegan. You were a schoolteacher. You had been happy. You had fucked a date. He had died in your arms. You swore it was an accident. You begged them not to wipe you. You couldn't understand why they wouldn't listen. Then you were gone.

You wonder if Illiana is right. Are you destined for a place like this? There is time for that question later. Now you need to decide whether to run or face Illiana.