Not so Picture Perfect

Prelude

I had my arm wrapped around his fat neck. The room we were in was exquisite, well furnished, showing the power held by the man that was at the mercy of my gun. I was a tiny stick compared to this so-called “powerful” man. Yet he was powerless against me, and the weapon that was held to his head. I had my victim in a choke hold with the barrel of Purus to his head. Though the man was big, he was weak. My training has left me strong in both the mind and the body, snapping the neck of this roll of fat would be like snapping a fresh piece of celery, coated in fat that is. I pressed the cold metal of my .22 into his temple, teasing whimpers out of him.

My victim was sweating profusely, droplets of perspiration collecting on his greasy forehead. His entire body shook in fear, not being able to hold his weight, he collapsed onto his almost non-existent knees. The expression on his face made him look like he was on the verge of crying.

Then he began to laugh. “Go ahead do it, you won’t get the information you need,” he cackled.

I tightened my grip and whispered in his ear. “The funny part of that, is that my job isn’t to collect information,” I chuckle. “My job is only to kill” my finger slid over the cold trigger, the motion familiar to me. I knew just a tug would send the bullet into his head. I pulled the little trigger, sliding the metal into his brain.

His body stiffened in panic then slumped. I let go of his lifeless body, sliding my gun into the waistband of my ripped up skinny jeans. Standing up I let out the deep breath that I’d been holding.

The sound of a dozen pairs of feet came to a stop outside the door. Adrenaline pumping through my veins, I reached a hand outside the window to grab hold of the overhang from the roof above just as they burst open the door. I swung my body out the window and landed in a crouch on the overhang staring into the moonlight as guards filed into the room. Their cries of horror a disgustingly beautiful song to my ears as they mourned their leaders death.

I sat there crouched on the roof, the full moon beside me casting shadows over my face, turning my red hair silver in the pure white light. My green eyes shone brighter in the light, glowing as if I was part cat.

 

The full moon stood out white against the black night sky. It seemed the clouds had covered each and every star but left the moon untouched by their darkness. My pale skin grew white in the night light. A spot danced across the moon.

 

A raven.

 

It was a sign that it was time for me to go. My work here was finished.

 

I got up and raced across the roof. Reaching the edge, I flung myself off it and into the midnight sky. As i neared the next building I prepared myself to roll into the impact. Just as my toes touched the surface of the roof of the building, I tucked my head and pushed myself forward, letting the impact of the landing push me through my forward somersault.

 

I began to run across the building, my long coat billowing out behind me like a cape, my long legs stretching out in front of me with each step. My skinny jeans made them look even thiner and longer, and the fitted dark shirt making my skin look even lighter.

 

I ran along the roofs until I came to the edge of the city where there was a field. I jumped off the last house and landed on my feet, my knees taking the impact. I ran into the middle of the field where a patch of wildflowers growing. I jumped and landed on the bed of wildflowers, their soft blossoms catching me like a hundred pairs of hands.

 

I lay there in the flowers, staring up at the moon that stared right back at me. My hope grew in my chest as I watched the floating orb in the sky. My heart was filled with the thought of a better life. One where I wasn’t known as a killer. One where I could live a peaceful life. A life where I could erase my past, and write my own future.

My eyelids began to droop and I started to doze off. My dreams took over and lulled me into a wishful slumber.