"Shall I tell you a story?" I ask dryly. The group of men and women stare at me. Their
gazes appear to be impassive....but I know better. I've been trained to see past all the different
masks people wear. And from what I've seen, people love wearing their different masks to hide
their thoughts and secrets from the world. It's so comical to watch. I never wear a mask...why
would I? I fear nothing. Ashamed of nothing. Attached to nothing. Feel....nothing. That is how I
am and that is how I will survive, thrive, and stay. I am strong.
All eyes of the group in front of me are upon me; filled with intrigue. I fold me hands on
the table in front of me. In a slow, deliberate, and indifferent voice I tell my tale. "Once upon a
time, there was a young naïve politician whose ideals did not sit easy with the people with the
real power. They decided he was a threat. An example needed to be made. A message sent. That
is where I come in."
The cold air stung my face as I daftly and silently made my way towards the politician's
house. I had watched him all day and knew that he would be working late at his office. The man
may have a lovely wife, but he was clearly married to his work. Trying to create a warm light for
all Russia to share. Fool! You don't rise to power in this country by being....decent.
I went over the layout of the house in my head again. Back bedroom window. Third floor. Locked? Highly doubtful. I can feel the corner of my mouth twitch in a smirk. Will the imbeciles ever learn? I crept along to the house. Blending to the shadows in the trees and shrubbery.
Looking up, I immediately see my target. The wife walks past one of the windows on the second
YOU ARE READING
Mine, Hers, Theirs, Our Story
Short StoryA world-class assassin. A wealthy British debutante. A young artist. An East L.A. gangbanger. Four woman with different backgrounds, ethnicities, and pursuits. Four women whose paths should have never crossed. Until a mysterious diplomat's daughter...
