Seniorita |18+| Editing Ongoing

Ch.5 MONSTERS IN PLAIN SIGHT

CLAIRE

A MONTH WAS ENOUGH or so I thought.

I was walking down the familiar alley, clothed in a baggy hoodie and baggy joggers, all black. It was very late at night and my collection point was through this alley. Via my means of communication by which my clients reach out, I was supposed to meet them by a lamp post, take the envelope as usual, and leave.

When I reached the location, I sat on the bleachers near the lamp post and pulled out my wrist to take notice of the time. It read nine pm and just when I placed my wrist back in the front pocket of the hood, the headlights of a car, drove towards me. When they were close enough, the car stopped and I walked towards it.

The tinted glass rolled down a tiny bit and the envelope slipped through the small opening.

No words were spoken, and no faces were seen. It seemed like they intended it that way as they turned around and left without a trace. I headed home, taking the same alley and catching a train. After a few hours, when I entered my apartment, I turned on the television to listen to the latest news report.

The vice president was speaking but I left before I heard anything, heading towards the kitchen while the mumbling from the lit screen became background noise.

My Chinese was cold and frozen, so I pulled it out of the fridge and popped it in the microwave. Even though I hadn't eaten for 48 hours, I wasn't hungry but I needed the energy so a few minutes later after the beep, I took my food out went back to the living room, and slurped on a few noodles while settling on my couch.

The vice president was talking about me, well not necessarily, only about the murder of Lucas Gonzalez, and since he was an ex-congressman, it was a matter of national security.

I was in a skyscraper, and on the very last floor which provided a pretty majestic view of the city. It was fascinating; looking out of my ceiling-to-floor glass window while perched on my couch and trying to stomach the food go through the last few month's activities.

I could see the beautiful lights and huge buildings in Manhattan. It was glorious, a testament to my love for this city. I chose this city because life it possessed and the busy nature of it made it easy to disappear. I looked at the envelope lying down on my small glass table.

A second too long, a minute too long, then hours passed and I had finished eating, bathed, and was dressed in a heavy hoodie that covered most of my upper body.

I finally settled back on my couch and picked up the envelope but my phone blurred distracting me. I used a burner phone, preferring that to the technologically advanced ones that were easy to track. I had only a few numbers; my dad, my uncle, and my cousin Marcus.

It was Marcus. "Yes, Marcus." There was shuffling at his end. A few minutes of silence before his deep accented Mexican voice asked, "Do you have the package?" "Mhm-hm," I mumbled, picking up the envelope and tearing it open. it open.

"Good...Mamacita. No mistakes, important people...got it?" he said with a hint of gentle warning.

"Yes, Marcus." I nodded with an eye roll even though he couldn't see and his line went dead. I removed the phone from my ear and placed the burner down- going back to opening the envelope.

I pulled out the file and looked through it- opening the first page. My heart sank, my fingers trembled and my vision blurred. It was the most insanely cruel irony of all. Life was one big joke and it just played one on me- as usual.

On the front page of the file, laid multiple pictures of his deep brown eyes, and the same rosy lips, framing his hard sculptured jaw so perfectly. He looked exotic, so deeply engraved in my mind. It was the same man I had dived into the river to save and the same one, I fought four men for.

How cruel could the world be?

I was the killer, yes! The very one they all sent on the mission to pull the trigger, to draw the sword, to bury the dead. The world would despise me for it- for, after all, it was a choice, right?

But I wouldn't have anyone to kill if these criminals in suits and tight smiles didn't give me their targets. I would be jobless and hungry.

Or my life would have entailed petting a dog, passing by my favorite coffee shop, ordering a latte as I sat by my office desk to add numbers together so it makes sense, and gossiping occasionally with that girl colleague about my boring sex life.

I wouldn't clean guns, or load them, fire them into the skulls of mortals. These people were the real criminals but somehow the world cast stones at people like me.

His name was Brian Diaz, a thirty-four-year-old man who lived in Hudson Yards the stepson of the current vice president, Damien Diaz, and the son of the governor of New York City Mercedes Diaz.

He was unemployed at the moment and an ex-convict who served a ten-year jail sentence. They wanted a kill that could be pinned on the opposition party and as such; I was to fire a shot at him while his mother- the newly elected governor- gave a speech at a press conference while he stood by her side during that speech.

I wasn't inclined to feel, for all traces of human emotions had been banished from my cold heart. This was no different and as cruel and pathetic as the situation seemed, I had an obligation to deliver at my end of the deal- after all, I had collected a huge sum of money for this job.

I studied the floor plans of the auditorium that would be used, the security detail that would be present, and the number of security cameras in the building; checking for blind spots and how easily I could hack into the system.

It wasn't going to be hard and if this was any other job, I would be cleaning my gun; excited for the thrill that came with finishing my job.

It looked like a scary piece of metal and looking at his picture made me regret saving his life twice- only to take it away again. I looked at my clock, the time reading 1:45 am. The whole world was asleep, forgetting that people like me keep watch till the break of dawn.

We study their lives, their thoughts, their routine, what they like to eat for breakfast, their favorite coffee shop, their Favourite Park, their exercise routine: and which path they took when the traffic in New York was shit. They forget that we follow them on paper, and keep an eye on them with a telescope.

I wished these people would see us coming, feel our haunting presence, and perceive the danger lurking in the shadows before time passed.

But unfortunately, they couldn't. Mostly because the monsters hidden in plain sight are the ones they welcomed.

ANOTHER CHAPTER IS UP!!!!!

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