Cold
It was December, I was cold and every one knew it. They knew a lot about me that even I didn't know about me. I'm not normal, thats more then known. I was an orphan, and it showed. I didn't live in foster care, I didn't live with anyone. Nor did I feel like everyone else.
I am not normal.
Some would say I'm not human.
But truthfully... I'm just heartless. I have the scars to prove it. I'm covered in blood at the moment, not mine but the one I was sent to kill. The person's lifeless heart dangled from my hand. Its face twisted in pain and horror as it realized…. its life was over. Its chest ripped open, bits of shredded flesh littered the ground around its frozen body.
I was cold.
I'm always cold.
Because I don't have human emotions.
Im cold.
Its saddening sometimes. To bad I can't feel that sad feeling, or anything for that matter. I let the heart slip from my small hands. Blood splatters across my already blood covered shoes. The cold knife in my hand, glinting as it drops.
I could leave DNA.
Do you know why?
No.
Well its because I don't exist. To the government I died over four years ago, right beside my older brother. In a crash that caused World War III.
Not many can say that their "death" caused World War III, but I did. I was the target. I once was the daughter of the president. But now I'm the ghost that everyone is afraid of. The killer who doesn't exist. But they all die, either way. A sick smile pulled at the corners of my lips.
But it didn't move.
I never smile.
Would you if you're dead?
No.
Where are you at?
My dearest target.
I'm coming for you.
The Cold is coming.