I go to the book store on the corner of Vincent Street, like I do every Sunday, and buy all the newspapers they have available.
"Well good morning, Sweet Face!" says Mrs. Cross, a holy woman who runs the place.
Ironic right? What are the odds? I place the newspapers on the counter and smile, returning her good morning. You're probably wondering what in the hell is a Sweet Face, and by all means I have no idea either. In this town, apparently having a Sweet Face is a reference to the innocent. People tell me my eyes never lie and that my baby face means I have a pure soul. I'm pretty sure my eyes lie very well when I'm pretending to be a prostitute, just to get my target alone in a hotel room. I'm a pretty good actress too, if I do say so myself. I am recalling one case in particular where I gave a deep tissue massage to one of my targets. It all happened quickly, in fact. One minute he was face down in a pillow, enjoying my lotioned hands on his back, and then the next moment his head did a complete 180. Lifeless. I'm pretty sure my soul is as tainted as river pollution, and I don't think God will be too forgiving of a woman that has killed thirty-two people in her twenty-seven years of life. I never object though.
"Thank you." I respond, as Mrs. Cross is printing my receipt.
"No problem baby. You take care now, Sweet Face. Come back and see me soon."
I exit the store and head to my apartment. Upon entrance I quickly dismantle the decapitation device, and move the boards containing nails from my walking path. I pass a mirror and stop. I have chubby cheeks, big hazel round eyes, long brown hair, and big lips that seem to make a heart when I smile.
"Sweet Face..." I say aloud, and it makes me chuckle.
Her confidence in the salvation of my soul warms me, but that's just not how things work. No matter how sweet your face is.
YOU ARE READING
Angelic Sins (Part 1)
RomanceA wealthy assassin named Heiress finds comfort in her weekly routine. She retrieves the Sunday paper, spots a target, and kills them using creative, gruesome, tactics. She navigates through life alone and doesn't have much need for human contact. Ev...
