False Identity

The beginning

I looked down at my hands painted with his blood. The blood still fresh. I tightly clutched my hands into fists. Trembling in anger. In shock. In worry. What have I done?
I looked out to the lake which I and his body sat near. This morning vibrant with the colours of dawn ,now thick rolling fog greyed the land.
My frown started to stretch out to either ear soon my heavy breathing turned into a slight chuckle. I started to feel giddy with laughter. I knew that he was still alive , but only just, all I had to do was finish what I started. I dragged his body closer to the water, his heartbeat faint and fading. He took a deep breath.
"Please don't do this," he begged , but I showed no mercy.
" why should I? If I don't do this I'll be dead instead and my blood will be on their hands and yours."
"But I don't want to die, I've got a family, a daughter please don't do this." He stuttered, trying to make out any words with as little breath he had.
"Better you die than I." With that jester I grabbed his head and plunged it into the water waiting for him to stop squirming. The sensation of killing him surged through me taunting me even more to make his death painful. My eyes filled with the power of lust to hear his dying breath was becoming overwhelming.
Soon his strength faded and his fighting back stopped. He was dead and I was alive to see another day. All I had to do was return his body back to them.
I dragged his carcass to my pick up truck and put him in the back under a plastic cover,and started off for my bosses. I wasn't afraid of people thinking I killed someone. It's my job I got to embrace it. At first I didn't like it, killing people. But since then I've become emotionless towards my victims, I didn't know who they were so there was no point of feeling sorrowful for someone I didn't know it was pointless, so I just ignore that little voice in the back of mind. Half way there now. I was taking his body to a location only me and them knew about. Somewhere in the middle of the nearest desert terrains. I frequently in the past took my assigned victims to this destination. we would bury the victims in the sand where nobody could find them. we were there, me and the body, and they were already waiting.
"Ah Catherine, have you completed your task?" A young English man with a long black coat questioned me. "Yes, of course." I replied. His hair moved in the gentle wind, as he showed a sliver of a smile showing that he wasn't an emotionless wreck and had a sense of humour. "Where's the body?", "In the back of the truck," I took him, with the four other men dressed in long black coats, to the back of my truck. I grabbed his boot and pulled him to the bottom of the truck and took the plastic covering of him. The smell of his damp, desiccating body plagued our noses, making us turn in disgust. "WOW, well done your money will be given to you tomorrow." He muttered behind his hand, which was covering his nose from the stench. "And not a day later, now I'm heading off I'm sure you boys can clean up the mess with out my help," I rolled the body off the edge of my truck, hooked the latch and threw a bunch of shovels on the ground next to the body and them. I looked up at their faces, astonished with fact that I was leaving them to the dirty work. "Are you not going to help us?" The young English man asked. "You're not asking for me to bury the body, are you?" "Well yes, you were the one that killed him," He answered with a bit of anger in his voice. "Well his body doesn't belong to me any more, remember as soon as you say when I get the money what happens to the body after is none of my concern, now I got to get home, tah tah." As I turned to get into my truck I heard him mutter to himself "Same old Catherine". This made me smile to myself. I turned the key and was off towards home. As I pulled away I saw how they all looked at each other then back me driving away leaving them to hide my killing in the desert.