Assassin Y

Chapter 2

The trip back from the mansion was a blur. I had rushed home to my apartment immediately following his death. Of course I couldn't stick around the mansion any longer; I'd be the number one suspect. What made my return from my assignment different was that I went home rather than to the office.

Once I finally reached my apartment, I quietly shut the door and sat shaking on my bed. Normally apathetic towards death and my killing of people, I was unaccustomed to feeling most emotions. Pity, confusion, sadness, anger, maybe even a hint of guilt, were overwhelming my mind, I couldn't bear it for long. The look in his eyes sent shivers down my spine. I felt sorry for him, that he had to die; why did he have to die? I was angry at him for looking at me the way he did, after all, he was the reason I felt like this, wasn't he? His eyes, I still can't get them out of my head. I've only ever seen that expression once, in my brother's eyes on the night of his murder, or at least, I think he was my brother.

I quickly shook the image from my mind, not daring to push my emotions any more than I had unintentionally done already. I made several attempts to regain my apathetic look on life and death and lose the emotions, but my attempts were all in vain. I shuddered and glanced at my clock: 10:30 AM, perfect. The bosses won't expect me for at least another hour or two. I did, however, promise allies of mine within the company that I would meet them for lunch at 11:15. In our business, it's useful to have allies, especially when you have attracted the attention of the Masters in a negative, competitive way. Once they notice you, you immediately go on their Kill List.

I dashed into my bathroom, grabbed a hand towel, and quietly started running the faucet in my sink. I cupped my hands below the water, feeling the icy cold numb my fingers. I gently, so as not to make noise, splashed this ice cold water in my face multiple times before looking at myself in the mirror. My apathetic mood took over once more, but my face showed signs that I had been distraught. My normally blue-gray eyes had become a brighter, more piercing blue in contrast to the redness surrounding them. My already pale complexion was made even paler by the cold water I thrust against it. I shut the water off and dried my hands and face off, enjoying the warmth of the towel in comparison to the cold of the water. My eyes faded back to their normal color which was not unlike staring into the heart of a nebula.

Once I had dried off, I reevaluated my appearance. I checked the clock: 10:35, good. Upon gazing back into the mirror once more, I realized that, though I had a jacket and other such articles over my outfit, I was still wearing the maid dress. I walked back into the main room of my apartment, throwing my jacket to the side, and dashed into the small closet. Within minutes, I darted back out of my closet having chosen a black shirt with dark blue jeans, my usual outfit for turning in assignment folders and meeting with allies. My hair was still in the wig from when I slipped it back on after killing him. I had to in order to slip out of his mansion unnoticed. I wrenched the blonde wig off my head and watched in the mirror as my brown hair fell out of the sloppy, flat bun that I had put it in. After trying to drag a brush through my hair repeatedly without success, I gave up. I began pulling it into a low bun which turned out better than I expected. One last check in the mirror concluded that I was

presentable, that is, until my eyes flew to my left arm. You see, I constantly

dream of times when I didn't have a horrendously identifiable scar. I suppose

things could've been worse for me, but life still sucked sometimes. I pulled

out a small, silver cuff that wrapped around my scar perfectly, but I quickly put it back in my jewelry cabinet. Instead, I selected a navy blue scarf that one of my allies gave me to cover the scar. I tied it around my arm tightly and grabbed my bag and keys as I slipped through the door and out into the hall.