Holding my Breath

Mission 1

Mission 1: N.E.W D.A.Y N.E.W T.R.I.C.K.S

I watched as the thick dark blood spilled put of his pale thin lips. I stood there just watching his face loose precious color and oxygen. He dropped instantly and now is on the dirty ground. I was standing on my own two feet observing him as I kept my chin held high. No tear, trembling or shaky hands as one of them held a gun. I had no emotions and I didn't need one bit of them.

"No money means no life. You didn't get it." I mumbled under my breath as it was like white smoke in the winter air. I shoved the gun into my black coat as if he could hear me. I was on a rooftop which was where my meeting spot was. You call it not safe specially if the sign said's DO NOT ENTER and you could call it unprofessional but I call it perfect. There were no witnesses and the dump was only steps away from the door. Plus no other building was so close by that you could see that I was stabbing or killing a person. So yeah it was perfect in my eyes. I pulled out a body bag from behind the dumpster and shoved his body into the black bag and threw into the dark green dumpster. I rubbed my hands together shaking off the dust and defected my hands for fingerprints. I couldn't have anymore police men questioning me or my dad and detectives searching around my house. It gets annoying after a while when I'm trying to get some business done. It is not so easy when you have to look over your shoulder more than once every time.  

I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket as I took it out of my pocket. The caller I.D was my father. I slid the answer button and held it up to my ear.  

"Hey you done?" My dad asked.

My dad was the one and only Jase Taylor baby. He was my one partner in crime but still being a number one dad. He was a philosophy teacher at the academy because of his wisdom and how the way he looks at life. Everyone at the academy looked up to him and admired him and I couldn't blame them because I too adored and admired him as well. He used to teach hand to hand combat and other fighting skills but he only does that on special occasions when we all need it the most. I did almost all of my successful missions with my old man. He was the one who taught me the basics when I was little and ever since I was born, he trained me up until I was sixteen which was only a year ago. Whenever he was assigned a mission he would take me along as his sidekick and I was a damn good sidekick.

"Just finished. What do you need?" I asked as I exited the building by taking the stairs. One step at a time with a clink every time my boots hit the ground

"The Torres are here for dinner. You need to get here in fifteen pronto."

"Oh I forgot." I said flatly. "Fine, I'm on my way." He said bye as I hung up and I walked over to my car. The dark sky gave the black slick car a sheet of white snow. Snow was falling down onto the empty streets of Carter Bridge. I unlocked it and got into the driver's seat. I started the engine and pressed my foot into the gas petal.  

The Torres was like a family friend but at the same time, they weren't. It only consisted of two people now instead of four. They were a typical family with four people. Four perfect people. A father, a mother, a sister and a brother. Well that lasted until two years ago. The perfect mother and father broke up, got a divorce (and an ugly one at that.) and one took one kid while the other took the last remaining kid. The mother and the boy stayed while the father and the girl left to move to another state far away from each other as possible to resolve in any fighting. The girl and boy still keep in touch but they slowly grew farther away. The occasional letter or family postcard for the holiday were sent but other wise, it's done. And it has been like that for a few years.

Ms. Torres was the headmistress for the academy that my father teaches at. She has always liked me but I never got around to figuring out why. I was that one kid who puts their feet on the desk, drank soda and fall asleep in class while talking notes and having witty comments to the lame teacher that is teaching. Never understood why she favorites me. I just hope that she doesn't turn this into a cliche or Harry Potter sort of thing where she see's something different in me like a light shinning because if she does I'm about to throw up. Even if she's the headmistress, sometimes I have to disagree on things with her and she flat out knows that. I have argued with her countless of times but during the argument she was calm and not demanding like she is to her son or other students.