My RoomateThe Assassin

chapter 2

I hummed 'Good To Sea' by Pinback all the way back to my apartment, over and over again. When I finally arrived, I got out my keys and unlock the door. It was already night time, hence, the darkness.

I guess that Landon haven't come home yet since the light is switched off.

I sighed and switched it on then locking the door. I turned around on my heels and started to walk forward while stuffing the keys back into my bag. But then, something happened.

"AAAHHH!" I screamed as I fell down on the floor head-first with a loud 'thud'. I curled into a ball and rubbed my forehead. That hurts so much.

It was then I truly saw what I had tripped over. A cardboard box. Possibly Landon's. Damn it, at least move it out of the way!

But wait a minute, he's not home yet. Unless the delivery guy had a key, which is totally absurd. I crawled towards the box. It have a little piece of note on it saying:

Landon,

Don't forget your crap.

~ Ginger.

I watched it in silence and re-read it a couple of times before the mystery question pops into my head.

Who the hell is Ginger?

Uh, I meant, how did she broke into our apartment? My heart is beating, and then suddenly my mind went into this deranged mode. Soon enough, I was fighting if I should open the box or not. Then again, curiosity did killed the cat.

Deciding to do something sinful, I peek into the box. Then I saw it and gasped.

"Oh my god, what the hell?" I slowly said, examining the contents of the box. Why are there weapons in my home? If the police knows about this then I'll be screwed! Oh rather, Landon would be screwed since technically, I didn't do anything wrong!

Oh god, what to do?! No wait, this is ridiculous! I'm a forensic expert damn it. I talk to dead people all day long. I could handle this with ease.

"So you discovered my dirty little secret," a voice said behind me. I screamed, and immediately, a hand slapped over my mouth to shut me up.

Oh dear! I should have listened to Fran! What was I thinking?!

"Amelia," he said loudly since I was trashing around. "My hobby is hunting with my father a few years back," he said. "Sheesh would you relax? What? You think I use those to kill human beings?"

That's the second time he had manage to humiliate me in barely a week.

"Why are there so many?!" I snapped, annoyed.

"Because I like guns. I have a license too. I own this legally, don't worry," he said, as if he thought that he could dismiss my worries away just like that. There's rifles and what not in my home! What if we - god forbids - got into a big fight and he suddenly decided to take out the rifle and shoot me?!

I wonder if Fran would cry over the sight of me with a .50 digging into my brain.

"Keep that away, locked, stored forever. Better yet, throw them out!"

"No," he said simply, kicking the box so it would slide into his room without the need for him to carry it. My jaws dropped.

"It's not like I'm going to kill you," he scoffed. "I won't pull out any of this in front of anyone, I promise," he said genuinely, showing the manners of a perfect gentleman. I hesitated for a moment, my brows furrowing.

"Let me take you out to dinner for the shock, come on," he said, treating me like I was a 5-year-old. "Shh, it's okay now," he teases. I glared at him.