I had my father's eyes.

They stared back at me through the mirror, dark and unblinking; they held the same unnerving coldness that his had, but now they seemed to bear something more.

Doubt.

It was an emotion of which was a stranger to me. I had always been sure that I was making the right choice, even if it had turned out to be the wrong one. My father had raised me to believe that I only had one goal; there had never been anything else. Once I had achieved that goal, there had never been any time for doubt.

Now, I doubted everything.

"Tell me I'm being an...