She stared death in the face and she smiled.
At least that's what the stories said.
So they called her the queen of darkness.
But some knew better.
And so they called her the devil instead.
-S.E George
I'm not a complicated woman.
But I suppose...
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November 6th
After everything that happened; my immense hunger had disappeared. At first all I could think about is what happened; the way that person thought it was a good idea to try and touch a sleeping woman. That it was a good idea to try and look at me.
But after I over thought every little detail of those moments, I corrected myself. Why am I thinking about this nonsense when I have an escape to plan?
But the more I thought about that, the more my head hurt. All I had achieved was to think of all the plans that wouldn't and couldn't work, and to get a migraine the size of Italy.
Even if I got out of this house now, they know my face. And I don't even know where this house is right now. Not specifically anyway. I could change my identity, get plastic surgery and whatnot. Am I even important enough to go looking for? The mafia isn't known for leaving loose ends, therefore I doubt I have any sort of easy situation out of this.
Not that I ever believed I would get an easy way out of this. I just can't get anything easy.
On the miracle I could even get away; they weren't following me, I was free. Then what would I do with myself? I was taking some classes in college; I had nearly finished them. But I kept to myself; so no one would even realise that I'm missing. I wouldn't be able to continue my 'night job' it would be way to suspicious.
'A new killer appears in "insert location" right after the other killer disappears in Italy' I might as well kill myself if I did that. Or put a big red dot on my forehead that said 'hey I'm a runaway. Kill me' But at the same time, the killings will stop now that I'm not there to actually do them. That's going to look suspicious if I'm not careful. I have to play my cards perfectly.
I need to be the poor, innocent little girl, who was caught in the crossfire of 2 big bad mafias. I need to be as non threatening as possible.
Or I could take my chances and kill everyone.
But the chances of me killing everyone before someone kills me in this place are 99/198. Even with my expertise and skill. Everyone in here has most likely had someone professional teach them everything to know about fighting. I taught myself well, using old tricks I saw my father do when I was a little girl, but I never had some expert show me all the tricks and shortcuts everyone else had. If I could even manage the task of killing all of the trained professionals, the repercussions would be unimaginable.
The rest of the Italian mafia would be hunting me for the rest of my humane existence.
Fuck me; I'm so screwed.
I pinched the bridge of my nose in utter surrender. Why is life so difficult?
That was my next question for a good thirty minutes. A few of my answers were; because I probably deserve it. Or another one was, karmas a bitch so why isn't life gonna be a prick? My most depressing thought was,
