Selene

Victim~Philip Holt

She was late.
Phillip Holt paced the polished mahogany floor of his apartment. His chained clock, a gift from his father, makes large circles in the air nearly hitting the ceiling fan. He tucks it back into his pocket and tugs at his tie.
No one told him that he would get such poor services. The woman had acted as though she were a professional. She couldn't even make it on time. He would have to hire someone else for the job. He was sure that she was incapable of handling it.
He ran his calloused hands through his graying, brown buzz cut, and wipes his sweat on his tie. Where could the woman be? He marches forward and backward grinding his teeth with each step.

"Lighten up hon." He whips around. His eyes meet hers. She smirked at his slackened mouth as she collapsed onto his sofa.

"You're late." He says scratching the peppered hairs on his chin.
She turns her head slightly and smiles, not a true smile, but a dangerous one, like the smile of a snake seducing its prey.

A moment of fear passing his features would be deadly, that was his father's downfall. He shook his head to free his father's limp, bloodied body from his mind.

"I have more than one client." She says with a small wave of her hand. She stamds up and leans her shoulder against the wall closest to him. Her arms cross over her abdomen and her fingers delve into her coat.

"Leave it be, Celeste." He shakes his finger at her. She ruffles his tousled curls.

"Relax," She whispers into his hair. Her hands brush over his shoulders. They tense immediately.

Phillip ducked from under her embrace.

"Is he dead?" He brushed himself off. Her gray eyes reflect off the flickering light of his lamp. An unearthly gleam laid behind the stony gray eyes. It was her most beautiful features.

She smirked, "What do you think?" the gleam began to glint.

Her thin cherry lips pierced together; she tugged at a strand of raven hair that escaped her overly gelled ponytail.

"I think you should answer the question."

"Alright," she whispers as she closes the gap between them. She locks him in an embrace starting at his lower back. He rocks just slightly. The lights flicker and blur in his vision. He falls to the ground gasping for air.

"Celeste," He gasped, blood squirts from his mouth. She smiles brightly. Her pearly white teeth mock him. "Why?" His breath becomes small, explosive puffs. She sighs and lets a finger run over his sweat-filled brow.

"I was told to."

"But the money."

"Phillip, I do not kill for money." She yanks the Benchman 47 from her back, then turns back to him, "I kill to survive."

"Celeste!" She pressed her lips together and stabbed the knife deep into him lifting up slightly. Phillip grunted, blood spewing from his mouth in the process. He convulses blood splattering against his black leather seats like something of a Picasso painting, "You're just like your mother." He growls. She blinks.

"I know." She yanks the knife from his side. He flops back onto the tiles. The light expires from his eyes and she whispers into his deaf ear, "You have no idea how much I know."

Wiping away her tears, she sets to work. Her eyes blind to the blood. Her ears deaf to his words.

***So happy you stopped by to read this. How did you like it? I will admit that this is in severe need of editing. I haven't finished all of my character profiles(lots of schoolwork--homeschooling pretty much means that the schoolwork never stops), so that made the writing pretty choppy.
Regardless if you liked it at all please vote and if you have anything that would help the writing I would love to see a comment. Criticism is always accepted. Again so happy that you read this and I'm happy to read your work.***
~Khaya