The Professional | h.s. |

2

Harry's POV
I heard shouting from the next room over, for the walls in these low class New York apartments were paper thin. My suspicion got the best of me as I peeked out of the peep hole perfectly located for snooping.

I seen the men break and enter the house followed by gunshots and screams, if wasn't that hard to imagine what happened next. Suddenly out of the corner of my vision I seen Mathilda coming up the stairs with many bags of groceries. She paced slowly by her home door careful to take in all details, but slowly made her way to my door and knocked.

"Please" she whispered as she cried for me to answer.

I debated opening the door, for I did not want the responsibility of this child, but the sadness and fear in her eyes tore me up. The men behind her began to get suspicious and started walking towards the girl, until I opened the door and she rushed into my home.

She immediately began to cry, as she dropped all the groceries on the floor.

"I can't believe they're all dead," she said to herself.

She quickly ran to my feet and hugged my legs looking up at me with teary eyes. I liked her in this position.

"Can I please stay with you?" She pleaded.

"No" I said quick and stern.

This answer made her cry harder, and she gripped my thighs in desperation unaware of what she was doing to me. I moaned quietly to myself, but her cries concealed the soft noise.

"You can stay for a week and if your family doesn't come and get you, you're gone" I said with much force.

She stood up and hugged me tightly, and I felt her adolescent breasts rub against my torso. I quickly pushed her away from my body and got back to my work.

She kept herself company watching T.V. as I sat at the table cleaning my vast assortment of guns, and she asked no questions. It was late and I realized she had not eaten so I ordered takeout and we ate in silence until she broke it.

"Why do you drink milk with Chinese?" She asked.

I was too busy chewing my food but answered, "strong bones, good muscles."

She kept to herself for the rest of the night until it was time to go to sleep.

"You can sleep in my bed" I said quietly.

"Where will you sleep?" She wondered.

"In the front room chair" I replied. There was no reason to explain my profession and as to why I felt the need to sleep in a chair with a gun in my lap. I helped her get into bed and tucked her in, that's what adults do, right?

She laughed at me, and I gave her a puzzled look.

"Are you my daddy now?" She asked.

I smirked at her and quickly made my way out of the room before I did something I regretted.

I peeked on her a couple hours later to see she had fallen asleep. Her pajama shorts riding up her legs entranced me but her voice awoke me

"Is life always this hard, or just when you're a kid?" She asked.

I hesitated momentarily then spoke, "Always like this."

I shut her door and walked into the living room and sat in my chair. I cocked and loaded my gun, once hand on the barrel and another on the trigger, and gently sat the gun in my lap. And like that I was out like a light.