My hand hovered over my belt’s buckle, fingers grazing the cold metal. Then I heard it; footsteps and a door creaking.
I moved before he could. A brutal elbow to the ribs, the sound of bones cracking, air being knocked out of the lungs, head spinning.
The assassin staggered backward, but a lithe step was more than enough as in a flicker of a moment, I was crossing the room, on him, twisting his wrist, forcing his gun against his throat. A clear struggle, a two-minute choked sound, then a quick, efficient neck snap.Perfect.
The gun hit the floor with a clatter, and a loud thump followed the body’s impact.
Wiping a bead of sweat from my forehead, I crouched before him, my head slightly tilted.
This was not enough for me though. That redhead from earlier already ignited the hunger I thought I had chained before coming down here.
I slipped a hand into my pocket, my switchblade whispering free, gleaming under the dim fluorescent lights, ready to carve into a skin.
My cuts were sloppy and jagged because time wasn’t in my favour. Usually, I would take much longer for this, but I had to do it within minutes. I didn’t like the result, but the sound of flesh tearing calmed me a little.
When I was done, I stared at the blood that pulled across the tiles, thick and black under the dull glow. And a satisfactory sigh escaped my lips.
I walked to the sink and began to wash off my blade and hands. And every single aspect of the action was performed withsuch poise, as if I didn’t just take someone’s life in the restroom of a tiny coffee shop.
Done, I fixed my cuff, then ran a hand down the hair that was a bit dishevelled.
Glancing one more time at my masterpiece, I exited, returning to my table like a man that just simply went to relieve himself.
The counter was still missing the barista, almost as if the universe was working with me again, giving me a perfect alibi, wiping away every whisper of evidence, allowing me to walk away…a killer on the loose.
I scanned the room. A couple had departed, leaving those absorbed in books or screens. No one even heard my footsteps. No one realised I left a while ago. No one knew what I had done. And even if it turned out that someone knew, I had a way of making people and things disappear. With a snap of a finger, this coffee shop and the people inside it could easily become a forgotten memory.
Sitting back gently on my chair, I lifted my cup to my hand. It felt cold, but I took a sip, anyway.
Ready to go, my hand slipped into my pocket, fishing out a white handkerchief. I wiped the body of the ceramic cup, erasing traces of my presence.
I returned the handkerchief to my pocket and pulled out my wallet. A door creaked, the sound slicing through the quiet room as the barista finally exited from the backroom.
My fingers brushed over crisp notes, and without counting, I pulled out more than enough, placing them gently on the table. My action caused the barista to raise a shocked brow. Smart lad. He didn’t utter a word, didn’t pretend to reject my generosity.
I rose to my feet, slung my jacket over my shoulder, and walked out, the smell of blood lingering in the air. But the peoplein the shop didn’t realise it yet. They didn’t know they were sitting in the same building with a mutilated body.
3
BETH
And there it was. A sharp scrawl in red ink.
My headphones were strapped to my ears, no music, no distraction, except for the hushed chatter coming from three lockers away that I had been trying so hard to ignore.
My fingers moved mechanically over the spine of books in my congested locker. My math notebook seemed to be missing. I was sure I didn’t go home the last time with it. It should be here somewhere, tucked between other books.
I couldn’t afford to misplace it. There was a lot for me to cover up after a two weeks of suspension. Starting the note from the beginning was not going to work in my favour. Not when the mid-term test was around the corner. I needed to find the note so I could study for my test.
“I really can’t believe she came back here.”
“Me too.”
“Why did Mr McRae get fired and she gets just a suspension? Why can’t the punishment be equal?”
“She was incredibly favoured.”
The chatter three lockers away was getting under my skin now, breaking through the wall I thought I had so carefully built before showing my face at school today.
