"You know how they say that the shot heard around the world was the one that started the Revolutionary War? Yeah, well they were wrong. It was the shot fired directly at my chest by a man that I thought was my friend"
I was given a second chance at...
You know how they say that the shot heard around the world was the one that started the Revolutionary War? Yeah, well, they were wrong. It was the shot fired directly at my chest by a man that I thought was my friend.
I'm Anita DeSantos, you may know me as the famous serial killer that slit the throat of Isla Roberts, the girl that sells flowers on the corner of Main Street. But there's much more to me than that. For example, I'm a Gemini, enjoy long walks on the beach, and I'm a cat person. No one ever seems to get past the whole "serial killer" thing.
Anyway, right, I was dying. I thought that the man that shot me was on my side, but he was actually from the FBI. Men, am I right?
Whoops, got off topic again. I'm sure that everyone is just dying to see me die. I guess this is why people call me a psychopath. If anyone reading this has been shot before, please contact me so we can talk about how much it hurts. Pain ripped through my body. I didn't even notice the feeling of my back hitting the pavement, jarring my body. It sent a fresh wave of pain through the wound. My breaths came in short gasps and I watched as hepeered down at my broken body. I tasted the metallic flavor of blood pooling in my mouth.
"Are you gonna say that I deserved this?" I managed to say, blood trickling from the corner of my mouth. Every word sent a wave of pain through me.
"You know me so well," he replied, still regarding me coldly. "Hurts like hell, doesn't it?"
A laugh turned into a cough, causing me to roll over into the fetal position, blood spraying the pavement from my mouth. "I've had worse."
He smirked and turned away. I heard his footsteps retreating back down the alleyway we were in. They grew fainter by the second until they faded completely. A haze filled my vision, creating halos around the streetlights lighting the alley. I began passing from one world to the next. Fear wrapped its cold, clammy hands around my heart and squeezed - hard.
I'm not ready to die! My mind screamed, my body was too weak to say the words.
It doesn't have to be the end, a smooth voice spoke in my mind.
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I opened my eyes and I was sitting in a comfortable armchair in front of a desk with a handsome businessman leaning against it.
"What do you mean: 'it doesn't have to be the end'?" I asked, sitting perfectly still.
The man smirked. "You're taking this surprisingly well. My name is Gabriel, by the way," he commented.
"Well, I don't want to die. I have so much left that I haven't done," I replied, folding my hands in my lap.
"None of my clients ever do." Gabriel smiled and shuffled a few papers on his desk.
"Let's cut to the chase then, shall we? What do I have to do to stay alive?" I asked him, regarding him curiously.
