Jay
I sat in my room, lying on the silk sheets of the bed, trying to get some sleep after perfectly killing my target. But I couldn't, I just decided to get my tattoo machine and work on my skin. At that point, I didn't have a ton of space on my lower arm, but the spot on top of my wrist was barren, and I started to dig for ink.
I held the felt-tip pen over my arm but didn't start drawing yet as my mind drew a blank as to what to add to my existing art - I liked art and everything that came with it.
Even her.
"Fuck."
My mind couldn't leave the thought of her that night, I thought of her as I inked my new tattoo, with every detail and line. I drew a knife, I didn't know why - maybe because she was throwing daggers with her eyes the last night?
And I know that- if it was up to her, she would do it without hesitation.
And by true means, the knife just fit perfectly on my skin. And she will fit perfectly with my body. As if I was talking about her. I think I finally found her, it had been years since the last time I saw the reddish girl with hazel eyes. Ages maybe.
And I had been promising myself to corrupt her.
By morning the bed sheets were in a knot, and aside from a few fitful half-hours of vivid dreams, I didn't sleep a wink.
My brain was constantly searching for any sign of crime, I needed another mission. Another kill. Blood to relax my mind and ease myself.
I was a bloodsucker.
Just one order to kill and I would kill without any second thoughts.
And as my cell phone was seeking a signal, I got up to catch a glimpse of the screen.
It was like God had blessed me by making my wish come to life.
Bless me;
I had just received all the information I needed to know about my new target. Soon to be skin without blood. And what made me even more curious was the way of the kill.
How the crime should be considered. It wasn't a trend to announce the way of the kill because all those people cared about was the head of the person. But they wanted their fingers of the right hand.
It was strange.
Cutting the fingers was a bratva method. A method to torture the enemy who betrayed the outfit after killing him. They usually send their fingers to the mafia don or the one who wanted him dead as an assurance.
I would prefer if it was the head though. But it's okay. In the end, I would have to kill him anyway. I sent my acceptance to the unknown men or women. This mission wasn't something to let slip away. I needed any small information about the Russian mafia. The wanted man will be attending a ball with his beloved, a modern one. And now, I have to attend it too.
Inna
Sleeplessness was my torture.
While the rest of the world embraced their dreams, I was trying to just close my eyes and feel some peace.
But I couldn't. What did I do to deserve this fucking pain? What did I do to be played by the pain of the world?
I couldn't do anything.
In the ten hours I've been in bed, I must have woken up six times. Not for that long each time, but enough to break my sleep into un-refreshing chunks. With every disturbance, there was a new nightmare. When my eyes opened and darted to the clock, it was seven-thirty in the afternoon. Outside, someone fell over the dustbins, sending the metal lid clattering to the sidewalk.
