Naomi
32 Days Until
The definition of fear is an unpleasant emotion caused by the belief that someone or something is dangerous, likely to cause pain, or a threat.
I am the definition of fear. I am dangerous, I will cause pain, and I am a threat.
Now, I am only this way whilst at work. Outside of the strange little bubble of my job, I am a sweet, kind young woman.
But how can someone so polite and personable be a murderer? It's quite simple- desperate for money.
Money can trigger a whole different side of any human being. Money brings out the nasty, greedy side in people.
"Damnit," I cussed under my breath. I looked ahead of me, the dead body of someone's ex-wife laying bloody and dead on her bathroom floor.
She was quite the fight, tried attacking me with her curling iron. Of course, the woman with the gun would win, we both knew that. But it's only human to at least try to save yourself. I found a dry washcloth off the floor and wrapped it neatly around the burning hot iron.
Other than the mini fight, this job was too easy. Soon enough, the towel would catch on fire and burn any evidence I may have left behind. Of course, I hadn't left any behind. I never have. Im careful and clean up my tracks, I'm good at my job.
I sighed, gazing over my latest job once more, before turning on my heel and leaving the house. This house was in the middle of nowhere, nothing but trees in sight, making my job that much easier- no witnesses. I climbed into my car, pulling away from the crime scene and off to the office to pick up my money.
I pulled up to the seemingly normal, friendly, jewelry store. People were inside, shopping around for a wedding band, perhaps a necklace a token of friendship.
"This ring has 42 karat-" I approached John, my boss, and the couple he was helping. "Hi, I'm so sorry to interrupt, I'm here to pick up my pay. Is it in the back?" I told them. John set down the ring, calling over another employee to help the couple, before leading me into the back room.
Here was the main base of our intricate business. We receive calls of people desperate to get rid off clingy exes or an old nasty boss planning to fire you. And we get paid to take care of them. Truly disgusting, but it supplies somewhat decent cash.
John handed me an envelope with my name scribbled on it. I quickly tore it open, counting through it.
"John, I should have $20,000. There's only $15,000 in here." I said, looking up at him for an explanation.
"Sorry, Naomi. We had to cut everyone down to 15%" He shrugged.
I scoffed, "You're killing me, Johnny. You lazy asses answer the phones and you get 85% of the revenue. I do the hard part and risk everything and get 15%. But whatever, this is fine. Thank you. Call me when you have another job for me. I'll see you," I grumbled, shoving the envelope into my purse.
"Wait, will you be seeing Michael tonight?" He called behind me. I spun around on my heel, "Well yes, he's my roommate." I said. He walked over to his desk, returning with an envelope.
"Please give this to him, he just got off the phone with me. He was gonna pick it up, but you might as well bring it home." I nodded, taking the envelope before leaving.
On the way home, I went to the grocery store, we were running low on liquor and food, essentials for Michael and Is relationship.
Relationship isn't the best word to use to describe us. Friendship?
