Two of a Kind

Chapter 2: Pay Day

     It was always cold at night in Memphis, Michigan. But that never stopped me from going out. I had places to go and a job to tend to. How else was I supposed to pay the bills? I packed my bag with a big hoodie, an old pair of jeans, a knife, and about $2,000. The kind of work I do involves a lot of spending to get an even bigger pay.
     "Alright dad I'm going out for the night. I'll be back later." I yelled out from the bottom of the stairwell. Dad always stayed upstairs. It's a good thing I guess 'cause I don't want him falling down the steps when he's drunk and I'm not there. Last time that happened I spent 3 nights worth of cash on 2 fractured ribs and a broken leg.
     "O-Okay honey. Remember I love you," he talked hesitantly, as if he wanted to say something. "I want you to be safe okay?"
     "Yeah I know." I was about to walk out the door when he began to mumble something.
     "What did you say?"
     "I said..um...come here and sit with me for a second. We need to talk.." He came downstairs and sat on the couch in the living room.
     "Okay. Make it quick 'cause I'm gonna be late for work."
     I could tell dad wasn't drunk because he never sounds this serious when he has a bottle in his hand. I was a little nervous to be honest. Dad and I haven't spoke for more than 30 seconds in the last few years so I'm wondering what he could possibly have to say.
He tried to open his mouth to speak but couldn't find the right words. Finally he said, "Clara...I know what you do at your 'job'. I know we need money but honey, you don't need to get it like that. There's other ways.." He had so much concern in his voice that I almost felt bad. Almost.
     "I know dad but I have to. I need to do this. It's a part of me and I can't just abandon my company like that. I want to do this. Just trust me. I'll be okay." My voice was gradually getting louder and louder as I spoke. I was starting to become upset and agitated. "You just don't understand!" I stood up and stomped out of the room with tears building up. I grabbed my bag and tried to run out the door before he said anything else, but I didn't make it in time.
     "Clara Lee Sharetto you're a mentally unstable monster and I can't let you go running around the city at night doing this to innocent people! You're going to get yourself killed!" He screamed out as he stormed into the kitchen trying to stop me.
     I stood in the doorway just waiting to leave. "Im in pain...and this takes away the pain. Just let me go. I'm 17 and I can do this dad." I didn't want to see his face because I knew his stare would only make things worse. A hateful glare is like stabbing directly in the heart and right now, dad was killing me.
    I wasn't scared of the night anymore. After speed walking 3 blocks south of Mill Street, turning left onto Conner, then sneaking my way down the back alley for the past year and a half, I've made friends with the shadows that lurk me.
At last I reached the back door to an old ice cream parlor just outside of town. Inside I find Larry; the dealer.
     "How much you got today, Larry?" I asked.
     "About 8oz. Hope that's enough."
     "I can do with 8. Here's the money."
     I slapped $1400 on the counter and left with my killer concoction. Larry made it specially for me. I needed something over powering to get the job done.
I walked down the back street for 20 minutes, sat on the curb, and lit up. The toxic smoke swirled straight up into my head and the rush began. The energy was building up and I couldn't hold it in anymore. I had to run to Nate's before the adrenalin was lost.
     My legs had never moved so fast. The ground beneath my feet flew by with every step. I climbed onto Nate's porch and before I could even knock, he opened the door and dragged me in.
"What the hell took you so long?!" He yelled at me. I just ignored him to avoid all the jibber jabber.
     "Who do I got today?" I asked anxiously. I was so ready. I wanted to unleash my power at its max.
     "24 year old Mike Daniels. He has no family, no girl or kids." Nate read off the clip board in his hands. "Go get him. Your late as it is."
     Downstairs, I slowly tip toed around the chair that held my patient in the middle of the poorly lit room. I felt his eyes panic in search for me. Once he found my silhouette, he locked his eyes on me. That's just what I needed; a terrified stare to boost the pain. I pulled my knife out of its leather case and charged. Sweat dripped from my burning face and my clenched fists locked into place. When I gripped his throat, he cried out in agony, "No! Please don't! I'll do anything..." I took my blade and began to carve a thick line down his chest...
     That night I left Nate's house with $4800 and my hoodie drenched in blood.