Miss Angelina [2024 Rewrite]

[5] - Acquiesce

"Is there any way to choose who I want to target properly? What if they're a nice person?" Florence asked through the crack in the bathroom door, deciding to slip into her underwear separately. I was sitting on my bed, pulling up my stockings, stumped for a response. Of course, it seemed like a daunting task; killing a man wasn't all pleasure if you weren't used to it. The idea of taking a life might seem appealing to her now, and maybe it will be later, but for a while, she'll be up all night asking herself questions about him. "What about his family? His mother? How will she cope with the loss of a son?" These thoughts will wreak havoc on her mental state.

I hope she realizes how lucky she is to have me, someone who went through that stage quickly. It didn't start with the killing of my fiancé and his mistress; I wasn't naive enough to think anyone cared about them anymore. They had ruined their family's reputation, but I did leave a letter to their parents saying they had run away—amusingly, no questions were asked.

My first real killing of a stranger took a significant toll on me. At that point, I had no one to help me through it with encouragement. It was utterly devastating; I spent hours wondering about that man. Truth be told, he was homeless and had recently been kicked out by his wife after cheating on her throughout their fifteen-year marriage. He jumped at the chance to be in my bed, so taking his life was easy. The following month was not.

His name was Francis, and he had an odd aura about him; it was as though his soul was devastated, but his mind was not. He exuded confidence, getting in people's faces, yet couldn't quite stand tall enough to portray it properly. His eyes were dark, his hair shabby and long, and he had slight stubble as if he hadn't shaved in a couple of weeks. His picture was all over the news—his ex-wife, though still legally married to him, cared enough to wonder about his whereabouts. His mother and father pleaded for his safe return home, offering full apologies for abandoning him.

Alas, my guilt shrank, and so did my humanity, as the news reports became less frequent. By the time the final report aired, my guilt had vanished entirely.

"You just have to remember that no one is as good as they seem, sweetheart," I whispered harshly into Florence's ear as I tightened a belt around her waist. Realizing it wouldn't do, I glanced toward the closet on my left. We had moved in front of a full-length mirror. I decided to let her borrow something of mine instead of spending hours finding something suitably enticing in her closet. Luke and I had chosen a tight black mini-dress for her, deciding that a safe choice was better for her first hunt.

Luke was sitting in the corner of the room, flipping through a newspaper, looking either frustrated or bored—perhaps both, judging by his reflection in the mirror. He caught my eye and gave me a comforting look, sensing how on edge I was about this entire experience.

"You can always change your mind after choosing a target," I reminded her. "If you think they'd get you caught, or if people would ask about them, you can always stop yourself." I had done it many times, deciding otherwise on a target. Sometimes, I'd be so interested in someone that I'd have to text Cleo or Luke to come and get me because I was too tempted to bring them home. I was frustratingly stubborn, even against my own willpower.