Disclaimer: Sadly, I do not own Twilight.
Assassin
Chapter 1: Unkillable
I throw the knife and it swiftly plants itself into the man's stomach. The man looks around, bewildered, while clutching at his stomach and stumbling to the ground.
Grabbing a sandwich from my bag, I eat as I wait to make sure that the man is really dead.
As soon as I'm done, I brush the crumbs from my hands and then stand and cross the gym, walking over to the unmoving man. His pulse: he doesn't have one. Good. He's dead. I pull the knife from his stomach and wipe the sticky crimson blood off on my jacket.
This was an easier job, I think as I stare down at him. The man is frail and old, and needs—ahem, needed— a cane to get around. Why my boss wanted him killed, I don't know, but the job is over with.
"I have one more assignment for you today, Bella," my boss announces once I arrive in his office.
"But I already killed a person," I whine.
"I know, I know, but this person needs to be killed today," he holds his hands up, as if he's surrendering.
"Can't you get Mike to do it? Or Jessica? Or Lauren? Or—"
"No," my boss cuts me off. "I want you to do it. You can have the day off tomorrow if you are successful."
"Fine," I grumble.
"He'll be on the intersection of 3rd Avenue at 543, somewhere in his house. Here's a picture."
My boss flashes me a picture of the man, but all I catch is a mess of bronze-colored hair.
"I'll be back in an hour," I call over my shoulder as I head out.
The house is only a short way away, and I spot the man immediately, considering the fact that he's outside.
Such a shame I'll have to kill him, I muse as I admire his bronze hair and—
Stop it Bella! I scold myself.
While hiding behind a thick bunch of bushes, I pull my knife out of my bag and throw it.
It's right on target, but when it hits him it… bounces off?
Huh?
He looks around, startled, eyes searching. Somehow, his eyes zero in on the bushes in which I am crouching behind.
Huh?
Staying low, I make a run for it.
But I don't get far.
Suddenly, I'm being held against the creamy siding of someone's house by this man. He's my age though, or around my age at least…
Why would my boss want me to kill someone who's only 16 or 17?
"What are you doing?" the guy demands in an odd, velvety-sounding voice.
"Taking a walk," I gasp.
"You tried to kill me!" he accuses me.
I shake my head roughly. "No."
He holds up my knife. "Does this not belong to you?"
"It doesn't," I choke out.
He pushes away from me and I fall hard against the ground in a heap, but I quickly scramble to my feet and run.
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~Claudia J.