Confessions of a Teenage Assassin

Chapter 2 - Escape

New chapter, guys! I hope you enjoyed the start of this story. Now let's get on with the good stuff!

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  Before I knew what I was doing, I bolted out of bed, throwing the covers off and tripped over my own feet.

  I was frozen, like a statue, willing myself to run. My gaze fell on him, standing at the foot of my bed, so still and silent. So calm and level-headed. Then I looked at my mother, who was sprawled across the bed, not a breath left in her.

  I was scared out of my wits, still half collapsed on the floor, trembling with dread. What will he do? Surely he’s going to kill me now… I hope he will just… make it quick… He started walking towards me, footfall light, taking his time. I suddenly got the urge to scream, to forget all my fears and shout at him, ‘Why don’t you come and finish me off? You bastard!’

  Now my pain could finally end. I didn’t want to live like this anymore. I could leave this world, knowing that my life has come to an end but instead of regretting, I welcomed it.

  The kick to the stomach completely winded me, leaving me doubled up and gasping for breath. My vision blurred, and I had never wanted to die so badly. I clutched my stomach, and looked up, but his hands grabbed me by my long hair and slammed my head into the wall behind me. I laid on the freezing cold floor, and whimpered. Waves of pain flooded my head, making me gag.

  It wasn’t over yet. I watched him lean close but at the same time, not really acknowledging it at all. I saw his eyes glint in the dark; those eyes that often received remarks from people saying how alike mine and his are. I saw it as a compliment, when I was a little girl, I’d slip my hand in my Daddy’s and we’d grin at each other, as if we’re secretly sharing an inside joke. Whereas now, I just felt disgusted and sickened to the stomach at the sight of them.

  He growled, and I recoiled, inching as far away from his stagnant breath as possible.

  ‘Do you want to end up like your mother or not?’ he sneered, and then slapped me across the cheek, ‘answer me, you stupid little bitch.’

  I held my stinging cheek in my hand, and said nothing. I didn’t trust myself to speak. My head was still hurting, and all the time I prepared for the next blow to hit me. I watched him with terrified eyes and my whole body shook.

  He slowly got up, eyes still fixed on me, and backed up until he was at the door. He stared at me long and hard, full of hatred and contempt. I was unable to speak or even stir, I stayed still and thoughts raced through my head. What’s he waiting for? I don’t have any kind of weapon in my hand, he could finish me off easily. Unless … unless… He wants to keep me alive. But what for…

  To my utter shock, I watched him walk out with disbelief. He left!

  I still didn’t dare move, my eyes still trained on the door. I wasn’t sure if I was hallucinating or simply dreaming. I still half-expected him to walk through the door again, shaking his head and mumbling, ‘What was I thinking? I couldn’t let her live! She’d run off and tell the cops…’

  But that never happened.

  The hallway light casted a sickly orange beam through the open doorway, yet no shadow appeared. I was completely alone in my room. The sudden silence rang, along with the loud thudding of blood pounding in my ears. Thud, thud, thud. The clock ticked noisily. And I could briefly hearing insects outside, chirping. This was all adding to my paranoia. I realized I’ve been holding my breath all this time, and let it out. I tried to think clearly, and reason with myself but my conscience was hazy, and I was losing focus.

  My hand went to the back of my head, and came up with a dark liquid. It looked black under the dimly lit room but I knew what it was. Blood. My blood. I was bleeding. No wonder I felt light-headed, if I don’t get it bandaged, I’d be bled out soon enough.

  I climbed to my feet shakily, a hand on the wall to keep my balance. Then I stood and listened. The house was eerily silent. I didn’t know where he was. He could be lurking right outside, waiting to catch me unguarded. I didn’t have much time. I needed to get out of here. I scooped up my sheets, and ripped off a long chunk and tied it around my head. I hoped that it would stop the bleeding, but I was no medical genius so I could only hope. Then as silently as I could, I opened the cupboard and took out the huge canvas bag I always carried with me to summer camps, and tossed it onto my bed. I looked up at my dead mother, and a lump formed in my throat. Tears threatened to make their escape but I wouldn’t allow it. I avoided my gaze and focused on packing. Still making no noise, I eased open my chest of drawers, and started stuffing random pieces of clothing into the bag.

  I had to be quick. I needed to get out of here before he made his way back. I was going through with this insane run-away plan that I came up with. I was going to do it. No doubt about it. I either run, or I die.

  I reached under the bed, still not looking at my mother’s corpse, and got out my savings. I had about $400, and that would last me for about a month… I hurriedly threw on a button-down shirt and a pair of jeans, hands quaking as I buttoned it. I then shoved the money in my pocket and picked up the bag. I was hyperventilating.

  I threw one last glance at my mother, decided to blow her a kiss, I whispered softly, ‘I love you.’ And I was out the window and sprinting down the sidewalk.

  I just happened to look back, to see him standing on the front porch, the porch light illuminating his cold expressionless face. Although I felt no fear. I would come back for revenge. I swear it.

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  I confess, it was on that day, that something changed in me. I decided that I couldn’t let him live and just walk away with it. He had to pay.