THE ENFORCER (leverage fan fic) COMPLETED

The Long Long Job

The Enforcer

Sixteen years, sixteen years since the day my life fell apart. Foster care, to group homes, then the streets. The scar on my chest remains an eternal memory to that day. It was the day that my life fell apart, everything I thought I knew was a lie.

When you're a kid you don't notice things, not until you look back. My father was a quiet man. An accountant by trade. We lived a quiet life, a normal life. My mother was on the PTA, I had karate on Sundays, ballet on Tuesdays for Christ's sake. We were a picture perfect normal family, until Monroe.

Accounting isn't dangerous, not unless you're a mob boss's new clean up man. I don't think even my mother knew at the time. It wasn't until I was an adult that I learned how deep he was trapped in that world. So deep he got his entire family killed.

The nightmares come most nights, replaying that day over and over. My mothers screams as the bullets pierced her flesh, the smell of gunpowder and blood, the look in her eyes when she died. I can't escape it, no matter how hard I try. It's like a never ending hell.

It was just a normal Sunday morning, we were eating breakfast like always, pancakes and bacon, drinking orange juice out of those pink glasses mom bought at an estate sale. I remember because they were the ones dad hated. It was quiet, that morning my biggest concern as a 13 year old girl was what lipgloss to wear, it was normal.

The only thing that broke the routine that morning was that loud knock at the door. It all happened so fast, but I still remember my fathers frantic voice begging them to leave as it echoed from the foyer, that's when the first shot rang out. As soon as the bang went off, he screamed for my mother to run, for me to run but by then it was too late. We made it to the back door before the bullets peppered the walls, my mother collapsed on top of me, that's when it gets blurry, I just remember her screams and the burning pain in my chest.

All I could do was close my eyes and hold my breath. I remember voices over me arguing the entire time. The one man who wasn't but a few years older than me kept screaming over and over about shooting me, he was the only one who showed remorse. His face has never left my mind. Remorseful or not, he was the reason I was alone in this world. He would pay, he would understand what he did to me.  Even if it kills me, I deserve justice.

After the neighbors called the police, after they found me, I spent six months in the hospital before being dumped in a youth home. I was in and out of foster care, no decent family wanted a teenager with ptsd. Single men thought? They seemed to love me, at least for a little while. But by the fourteenth I caught on, and by the twentieth, I ran. The streets were better than what went on in their homes.

It's easier than one would think for a 15 year old to survive on her own. When you're pretty you write your own checks. You learn to use the only assets you have to survive, and if you play your cards right, you'll come out scared but rich, and that's exactly what I did. I had to if I wanted to accomplish my goals.

The only thoughts on my mind slowly devolved into vengeance. With enough money and favors exchanged, anything could be possible. I could find the men responsible for my parents death, for mine.

It may have taken me twelve years to find him, and another year to come up with a plan, but I found him. Elliot Spencer, he was just a hired hitter, however these days he runs with a group of grifters and mercenaries. It's some Robin hood wanna be bullshit.

We both know the man he is, no good man walks into a home and kills a family. Legally, I died that day as far as anyone knows, as far as he knows, so he'll never see me coming. Thanks to the cops there's a grave with my name next to my parents, a grave I'm pretty sure he leaves flowers on every year in fact.