Kissable Assassin

Chapter 1

I'm scared to get close, and I hate being alone. I long for that feeling to not feel at all. The higher I get, the lower I sink. I can't drown my demons, they know how to swim.

I killed him. He was dead. Not in a peaceful never-ending sleep, but as a bloody mess over a pale body. His deep blue eyes that were once full of light and expression were now blank. His mouth was open but moist with a bubbling red liquid that was beginning to trickle over his blue lips and down his white cheeks. We were kissing. He and I were vigorously kissing and it was with a vigorous motion when I took my knife and stabbed him at the base of his chest.

I drew back, and let him fall. Looking around the dark foggy alleyway to make sure no one was near, I knelt down by him. Then I cut off his finger, the one with the ring, just like Zac and Chris told me to, and put it in a plastic ziplock bag. Orders are orders. They needed proof.

After hoisting him up onto my shoulders, my strength paying off, I let his body tumble into the dumpster, before setting the contents on fire, erasing any evidence of him, aside from the finger, which I must take with me. I then run away.

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Zac and Chris were waiting for me at home, looking at me expectantly. I watch them smile as I hand Zac the bag, and Chris- my knife. It disgusts me, how amused they look when I bring a body part home. Honestly, the little wad of broken flesh is a tad too grotesque for my preference, but I'd rather do that than repeat any part of my first year with them.

They saunter into our house, and I follow them in and try to stride past them swiftly, but Chris points my own knife at my chest. I can feel the tip of the blade pressing into my skin, threatening entrance. I look up at Chris. His threatening, dark eyes burn into mine, and for a moment, I think he's going to say something. But the moment passes and I can walk into my room.

There are no windows, just a cot with a warm blanket and the small stuffed panda bear that they let me keep. To the right is my trunk of belongings, clothes and shoes and a few books. I shut my door behind me and hunker down on my cot after I put on my simple night shirt and boxers.

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The boys let me sleep in today. Normally, they give me a wider range of privileges after I make a kill. I wake up naturally, no sun or alarm to do the job and it feels nice. I'll probably get to go shopping today. I normally do after a murder. They give me a reasonable amount of money and let me go, as long as Jayde went with me. Jayde was 18, two years older than me, and the boys were both 19. They were all partners and I was their weapon. Jayde was nice enough, but she was the one Zac and Chris trusted. She didn't need any measure of convincing whereas I did.

I was the one they had to force. And it took a whole year of 'aggressive negotiation,' as they say, to get me to cooperate. An orphan with hair dyed from blonde to brunette and six inches shorter, I'm no longer searched for by the police.

But Felicity Anderson is good as dead. Adriane Collins. The killer. The one who does the dirty work. The toy. That is who I am. At this point, I honestly don't care. Not being goody-two shoes feels better. I've murdered too many to count, including Jason. Zac and Chris wanted him dead because his father hadn't repaid a debt they owed. Jason was two years older than me, like Jayde, but Chris talked Zac into making me do the job, saying I was much more irresistible than Jayde.

I begged to differ.

Jayde was gorgeous, with long curly locks of red hair that billow down her shoulders and sharp eyes. I always considered myself to have a more risqué appearance. She did look more like a good girl. Zac always called me his little "tramp". I think Chris just liked that he could force me to do things.

Interrupting my thoughts, Zac walks in, saying, "You've got a job today, Tramp."

"What job?" I say in the most respectful tone, but I don't hide my disappointment. I wanted to go shopping. That was the most freedom I ever got.

"Have you ever been to a strip club?" He asks slyly. Oh no...Oh no. "I'm just kidding. It's a typical night club. But it's not like you're not used to that Little Tramp."

"Can't I go shopping today?" I ask as respectfully as I can, yet again. I can see in his eyes that he was pondering whether or not to let me.

"Only if Jayde goes with you. And only if you buy something sophisticated yet skanky for tonight," he answers. I knew there would be a catch. I don't mind Jayde coming, but I'm tired of trampy clothing. But it's shopping, so I take it. I sit up and pick out some clothes. But Zac doesn't leave. I stare at him for a minute, wanting to dismiss him but not wanting to be disrespectful. "Are you going to change or not?" He asks, promiscuity lacing his voice.

I glare at him. He wasn't going to leave. He wanted to watch me. And there wasn't anything I could do about it. So I turned away and took off my night shirt, leaving me with a major push-up bra and a thong. As I reach for my jean shorts, I feel hands in my hips. Then I feel Zac against me.

I try to get out of his grasp, but he holds on tighter. He puts his chin on my shoulder and pulls me closer. Continue changing. This action makes him worse. He folds his arms around my waist as he picks me up and holds me closer. He nearly winds me. When he doesn't let go, I start squirming. I don't and can't handle being restricted.

"C'mon, Little Tramp," he says in my ear. I pull away from him.

"Please, Zac...I don't want to do this..." I whisper. He responds by pulling me down onto my cot with him. He pins me down with his weight. I struggle to push him off, despite my strength. His muscular frame was too much for me. I turn my head to the side so he couldn't kiss me. But her buried his face in my hair and kissed me neck while his lower half pressed against mine. He was trying to slip off my thong, but I grabbed his wrist.

"Stop," he says, shaking off my hand. I can't do anything. Then I hear a bang on the door.

"Hey Zac! Is she gonna do it or do I need to talk to her?" It's Chris. Zac looks back at the door, obviously irritated to a certain degree.

"No, she's doing it. I'm just enforcing it," he responds.

"Well, you can enforce it later!" Chris retorts.

"I'm busy right now! Leave me alone!" Zac yells. I hear Chris humph and walk away. Zac looks back at me. "I've got handcuffs. I'm sure you remember?" He threatens. I do remember. Very vividly. And I didn't want to relive the memories. Sensing this, Zac crushes against me so hard it hurts.

"Hey Zac! I got the new stuff!" Jayde yells from the kitchen. Zac grumbles and curses as he gets off of me. I guess the new stuff was important. When he leaves, I finish dressing.

And when he comes back, I recoil into a corner. He gives me a sly smile before throwing a switchblade onto my cot. When he advances on me, I flatten against the wall. He curls his hand around my waist and crushes me against him.

"Zac...please," I plead. When he doesn't respond, I shove hard on his chest. Surprised, his hammerlock hold on my waist is loosened, and I duck behind him. I release the switchblade and point it at him with a shaky hand.