The girl put the silencer to the gun. She held the lock pick, and, after seven seconds, the door was open. She walked in quietly. She had no shoes on. Only socks. She held the gun with her gloves, and walked in to the bedroom. A snoring old man. She smiled. He was in a deep, deep sleep. He might not feel the pain. She slowly walked up to the bedside. She aimed at the center of the forehead. Now or never. She shot the gun.
The blood blended in with his blanket. She'd blown his brains out. "Poor you, old man. Poor, poor you."
YOU ARE READING
787
Mystery / ThrillerIt started with an E-Mail, from an anonymous source named 787. It read, simply, "Be Prepared." Ian's iPhone has a virus, a virus directly targeted towards him. After that day, gruesome deaths begin to occur around town. Murders, stabbings, choking'...
