How to Raise an Assassin

CHAPTER 37: I GET WHAT I ASK FOR

I saw why I was forced to make a huge pot of stew that could feed multiple people.

It was really meant to feed the same person multiple times after she throws up the first couple of servings.

By the time I couldn't vomit anymore, the garbage was leaking with the stuff. I know it was gross but imagine how I felt knowing I was responsible for half of the trash. Ash was such a good comrade vomiting in solidarity with me. He didn't offer to help eat the stew, which I found interesting since he was willing to take a beating and have his lung punctured but refused to touch that stew.

I couldn't blame him. It took me eight tries, but finally, when I ran out of acid to throw up, I managed to keep the rank stuff down. Then I buried my head in my arms on the table, gave the thumbs up, and cried myself into a nap. If I wasn't a monster before, I was definitely one now.

I heard Auntie take the bowl aware and huff as if she was disappointed I couldn't fill another trash bag with my vomit. "You passed stage six." I felt a napkin thrown at my head. "Now clean yourself up."

The stew didn't go in right and it didn't come out right. That's all I'll say on the matter.

After three days of sleeping on the toilet, I decided to move onto stage seven. Ash thought I was crazy. Not only was I missing a ton of stuff at school, like finding the area of a parallelogram or reading Roll of Thunder Hear My Cry, but midterms were coming up soon. If I didn't sit in on them, I'd definitely be too far behind to catch up and pass onto the 8th grade.

However, when your life consists of murdering people for money, school kind of takes a back seat. Especially when my new task wasn't getting good grades but restructuring the gang my father owned so that less people died needless deaths. I think that trumps going to school right now.

Ash disagreed. After much arguing, I promised him that I would wait until after the midterms to start stage seven. That was two weeks. It also meant being fielded a lot of questions about my absence and rumors spreading about God knows what. The soccer team had most likely kicked me off the team, before I even played a single game with them, which was an embarrassment.

Yet, the thing I dreaded most was returning home. I knew my father would want an update. And I wasn't wrong when I waved goodbye to Ash after he came with me to my house to drop me off.

The minute I punched in the code to deactivate the security alarm long enough for me to enter the mansion, my father was waiting for me. No doubt one of the guards at the entrance of the estate called in saying I had arrived.

My father motioned for me to follow him into his office. Once inside he closed the door and took a seat at his desk offering for me to take the chair in front of him.

"Our fabulous mayor has just signed a property tax bill that will drain my bank accounts," my father said while he twirled a pair of scissors around his index finger. "More importantly, he targeted grand estates, which the council was happy to approve. I might have to lay off staff, increase the number of contracts we take in, and possibly look to expand Reaper operations."

My father stopped twirling the scissors and gripped the blade in his hand. "Or, we can send the Mayor a little message."

My hands were fidgeting as my father built up to what I knew he was hinting at. I asked for this. I wanted this after what he did to Ash.

But this was before I talked with Momma Emma. As much as I hated the Mayor, I wondered if he was really one of the evil ones.

Images of Ash's condition crossed my mind. Ash sobbing while I was in bed saying he had lost his father. That man, Mayor Dayton, was not the father-figure Ash once looked up to.