Chapter 4
“Get up.” He ordered, the anger in his voice clearly stood out. I did as I was told to because I had no weapon, nothing. And he had strength, agility, probably a weapon and it didn’t help his frame was towering over mine.
I heard sirens nearby, by the looks of it he did too.
He looked at me, up and down for a moment.
“Get in the car.” He spat nodding towards his Audi.
I was about to open the back door but he’d open the passenger door and pushed me inside. He walked over to his side and got in.
“Put your seatbelt on.” He yelled another imperative.
Since when did a murderer care about his next victim’s safety?
I put in on for my sake not just because he told me to.
He started his engine and quickly made a U-turn, the car accelerated in full speed towards the closed, iron gate.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” I shouted, as we exceedingly neared it I dug my nails into the seat, hanging on for my dear life.
The car crashed through the gate, making the gate fly out onto the road. The curled haired psychopath carried on driving like it was nothing!
Once we were on the motorway I realized we were leaving Chelsea, my home, the place I grew up, I was also leaving Lucia, Marge, David, Julie, Jacques, Lewis, Ann, Skipper (my goldfish) and most of all, my dad…
“Where are we going?!”
“To Thorpe park- Where do you think we’re going?” He said still sounding angry.
I folded my arms, not just for warmth but for comfort.
After an hour of silence and driving, the car parked at the back of a large building, probably flats. He got out the car as I took off my seatbelt, the door next to me opened, I got out to thank the boy who tried to kill me but he was busy getting a bag from the back of the car. I wondered what was in it.
He harshly shoved me away so he could close the passenger door. He started to push me towards the building, forcing me to go. As I walked in front of him, I couldn’t help but look at him from the corner of my eye, just to be precautionary.
“Look I’m sorry.” I muttered as he opened the door of the deserted building.
“What’re you sorry for?”
“I… cut you…”
“Why are you sorry? You were trying to protect yourself, self-defence.”
“But I hurt someone and that’s not right, whether you’re a murderer or not.”
He froze then returned to normal. “I’m not a murderer.” He hissed at my face.
“Oh of course, because we all go shoot people once in a while don’t we?! If you’re not a murderer then what are you?”
“I’m an assassin.”
A.N- Dun, dun, dun...
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My Assassin
FanfictionEver wondered what it was like to have an assassin? I didn't plan on having one at any point of my life really. It's not really something you choose to have; it's assigned to you by someone else. Someone else chooses when you die and instead of doin...
