brutal

Chapter 1

VERENA

It is a common misconception that killers are cruel of heart.

We all have different motives, so why generalize such a faulty belief? The moment you pull the trigger doesn't decide whether or not you're a good person.

No. It's the moment when the person you kill stops breathing and how the world moves without that person in it.

Without that person living and breathing, is the world a better place? That's a question I've always asked myself.

And now, I was asking again.

"Please," the merchant begged.

"Be quiet," Irene chastised from behind.

I turned around to look at her and scoffed. "Don't mind her. Be as loud as you want, Billy."

Billy Kosnar was a wealthy merchant from Italy. He was on a business trip in New York to authorize his new sex trafficking operation here.

Irene and I wanted to get rid of him immediately before he could even meet his accomplice in a nightclub two blocks away from the alley we were currently in.

Billy kept walking backwards and I trailed after him. The taunting and the chasing was always my favorite part. The thrill you get when a part of them finally realizes that they're utterly fucked, and the whole of them realizing they will die by my hand.

"Please," he begged again, his pants suddenly staining a darker shade of black.

I smiled at the sight of him wetting himself and drew my gun from the pocket of my coat. His eyes widened at the weapon and his body started shaking uncontrollably.

I cocked the gun and pointed it at his face. "Choose," I blankly demanded.

Billy started crying and shaking his head side-to-side. This was making me incredibly impatient, and I knew Irene knew that as well as she stood beside me and crossed her arms.

"You need to choose, asshole. Forehead, chest, or dick?" she asked the man filled with trepidation.

"I- I don't know! I don't- don't want any! Please! I'm innocent!"

I shot the wall beside his face at his answer. Death was already here to claim him, and he pleads not guilty? How insulting.

"Choose. This will be the last choice you make before your demise. Don't make me choose for you," I sharply said as I kept the gun directed at him.

He started crying out louder and bent down to beg. I looked at Irene beside me and we quietly snickered at the sight of it.

"Please," he begged again.

I rolled my eyes. I've had enough.

I brought my boot down on one of his hands that he had laid flat on the floor amidst his begging. He looked up, and I shot him straight in the forehead mid-scream.

His body slumped on my feet and I kicked him off while Irene whistled beside me. "Nice," she said.

I dipped my gloved finger on the pooling blood on the floor and started writing on his forehead. Footsteps started behind me and faded away as I stood up and wiped the blood off on my handkerchief.