Hitman (on hold)

Chapter 2

Focus. You have to kill her.

Emily's POV

I regain my stature. The gorgeous creature peering at me is blushing, embarrassed. Actually, we both are. How sweet, how flattering his affection seems to be.

"Well, sir, the affection is flattering, but I really must be getting to my reading.", I said, regaining my torrent stream of defensive remarks, not letting his complemints get to me. He looked almost suprised, like he didn't know the feeling of shock and was fighting against it. Whoever he was, I'm suprised he isn't married yet. Any woman would do anything for a face and body like that.

"Uh.h.h.Um," an adorable stutter, "May I ask your name?"

"Emily"

With that he smiled, and walked away. "What about yours?" I called, but he did not hear.

John's POV

Emily. This stunning woman. I need to get my mind on track. My thoughts go crazy. Obviously, I already knew her name, it was in my packet of information. But I just wanted to hear her say it. I'm going delusional.

The hunt is going pretty good so far, but I am still quite curious of why this is my job. I wonder what this lovely woman could have done wrong. But sometimes, the best people have the worst of intentions.

This thought brings me back in a tornado of memories, the gales so strong I am knocked off my feet.

10 years ago...

I am in a dark room, the shadows reaching out to grab me and hold me in their cruel embrace. One shadow crosses a face. My mother's face. Her pale skin is almost translucent in the moonlight. She sobs quietly. Her tears stream down her face, leaving tracks in her fragile porcelian skin.

A loud knock resounds through the room. Someone is at the door. "Karen!!!" a deep voice bellows. My father.

This man is the town's leading church member. This seems unfitting for him, due to his behavior, right? No. My father seemed to be the most nice, faithful, loyal, Godly man born on earth. Yet he was a hippocrite. He sweet talked my mother, the beautiful pastor's daughter, into a relationship that lead to a 'wonderful' marriage. This led to one child. This was what infuriated him the most. He never wanted this commitment to a relationship, but now, a child? He must destroy it.

My mother cringes as my father knocks on the door. Well, knocks is an understatement. More like punched. "Karen?! Where is that child?". My own father wanted to kill me. I cowered into the corner.

It was quiet for a minute.

Then my father barged in. He must have picked the lock. Who knows how long he's been practicing that.

He runs up to me and grabs my collar. "You worthless brat! You should've never been born!". He hold a knife up to my throat. It begins cutting in, and I know this is the end.

I feel a sudden impact. Some projectile had rammed into the man who calls himself my father. I would recognize the pale skin and black hair anywhere. My mother had thrown herself at my father.

Her final sacrifice.

Run. She mouthed.

I turned, ran, and never looked back.