The house no one Knows about

TWO

In my mind and hopefully everyone else's I do not exist in the United States of America. This is not defeatism or melancholy. This is hard core honesty and anything different is a big fat lie. There is no-one named Bambi in North Carolina. The only other human being whose is physical description is similar to mine is Mercedes Kingman. There is only Mercedes Kingman. This is the name tattooed to the back of my name. Unfortunately she died in a plane crash ten years ago.

I slip out of bed and crawl out through the window; bag in one hand and gun in the other but I'm not stupid. I always put the gun in my bag when I get out. I walk towards the richer side of town, freezing and shivering vehemently. My chest tenses up and my windpipe is congested but I don't stop walking because I'm almost there and my target isn't expecting me. It's hard to ignore the cool wind dissolving into my body but somehow I manage to climb into her house through the window. I have to lie down on the floor by the heaters and regain the body heat that I don't have.

Living with Pyroflu is awful. When you have Pyroflu, your body does not release heat energy; your body absorbs cold air. Your lungs are the only part of your body that have anything to do with heat. Once your windpipe is covered in mucus and you can't breathe through your nose, your lungs start to burn up and release all the heat they want and then you start coughing. Then the cold air you stupidly decided to surround yourself in transforms your body into an ice sculpture, your body becomes too cold, your organs shut down and then you die.

I rise slowly from the floor, my skin already warmer. Creeping into the master bedroom flawlessly is my speciality. The missus is lying peacefully, sprawled across her bed right in the centre; probably because her husband had to go for a business meeting in New York and the meeting is currently being held in some fancy hotel room with strawberries and red wine.

I pull out a handcrafted British Sea Service pistol and place it on her neck. Her eyes open sharply and her body tenses as she realises what is going on.

'What do you want?' she pleads

'All you have' I whisper into her neck.

I command her to close her eyes and blindfold her with a black napkin. The code to the safe is mine so it doesn't take time to empty it out. I manage to survive the cold wind that hits me once I open the door. I hold my breath and run out into the wind and because I run with the speed of light, my skin isn't even a bit cold when I reach my house and dump the bag on the floor. I push my bony hands underneath the floor boards and retrieve the safe. I count the money as I place it in. $160,000 is a lot of money also a diamond ring and a golden tiara that probably costs $60,000.

I hear a heavy sigh and I freeze before I remember that the anonymous attractive boy is sleeping on my couch. I pad across the floorboards not forgetting to return my safe to its initial position. I kneel by the couch and run my hands down his smooth face and his glossy auburn hair. Then I gently cover his nose and mouth and pull out my hair slide; prepared to stab him in the forehead but my hand freezes mid-air and I return my hair slide into my hair. I decide to leave the anonymous attractive boy alone. I pick up my gun and empty bag and retreat to my room.

When the sun arrives, I dare not wake him. While I comb my hair on the other side of the living room, I can feel his stare hit my back like hard, heavy sun rays on a Sunday afternoon. The anonymous attractive boy; who is always watching. I tie my hair into a ponytail and let it bounce on my shoulders.

'So I guess you're leaving now' I say. When I turn around he glances at me almost mesmerised then nods with a slight display of disappointment. 'I have a spare tyre'

Inside the barn; there is a Cadillac Escalade parked comfortably in the corner. It was a gift from Izzy; who is practically my saviour and first love of my life. The anonymous attractive boy who is always watching seems impressed even though he has a very nice Ferrari 458 Italia parked outside my house. I watch him replace his tyre and drive off with hope that I will never see the anonymous attractive boy who is always watching and drives a Ferrari 458 Italia again.

I return back into the safety of my home and lock the doors like I always do. Then I unlock the attic and prepare a very nice English breakfast. The taste dances on my tongue as I sprawl on top of the bed and watch The Shaw Shank Redemption on a massive plasma screen TV.