Good Criminal

Prologue: Sick Revenge

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Good Criminal

Prologue: Sick Revenge

mayonaayz

Good Criminal- Prologue.

"Killing you will make my day," I sneer.

I watch his face crumple as he fights back the tears that threaten to escape his eyes. Somehow he’s still standing but that won’t be for long. His time is up and I will have the pleasure of doing the countdown. Don't pity him; he'll only suffer a few more minutes whereas me, I will be suffering for the rest of my life.

"Don't kill me," he begs.

I remember the first time I heard those words, it felt like it was yesterday.

"Where are they?" My father growled from within his office.

"I don’t know. Please d-don't kill me!" A man's voice cried.

My heart was beating so hard I thought someone might hear it. I had never heard my dad speak like that and the tone of his voice was cold and heartless, one that would echo through your head in your worst night mare. I knew at the time I wasn't meant to be hearing this conversation but I was only six and curiosity got the better of me. Staying quiet, I carried on listening.

I heard a fist hit the wall and my body shivered at the harsh sound. Then the unmiskable sound of a gun shot rang through the house. My heart leapt up my throat and then retreated into my stomach. That was the night I found out what my father really did for a job.

Annoying whimpering snaps me back into reality. I quickly push away my memories from the past and concentrate on killing the guy in front of me.

He'll be easy.

I jump down off the steel metal beam from the roof top. The drop is roughly six meters but this doesn’t scare me anymore, nothing can. I bend my legs just before my feet come in contact with the concrete floor. Spreading my arms out I steady my balance.

The man goes pale; he looks like he’s seen a ghost. He glances at me and the beam and then back at me again. He’s probably wondering why I can jump like a ninja. Let me tell you, it’s not easy. It took six broken ankles to do that.

I take a step towards him and he takes another step back hitting the bare, corrugated wall of the warehouse. I think he's getting the idea of who's in charge now. Just to make sure I kick him lightly in the stomach with the toe of my black stiletto boot. He slides down the wall making a 'thump' when he crashes onto the cold, hard concrete.

Enjoying the sound of my heels echoing through the empty warehouse, I walk towards him. He whimpers when I press my gun against the temple of his already bloody head. Will he stop the whimpering? He's so irritating; can't he just be dead already? No, I need to hear something from him. A very important confession.

"You killed my father," I snarl as a wave of anger washes over me. My hand tightens around the grip of the gun making my knuckles go white.

"I am your father!" he shouts back.

I laugh. "Don't f*ck with me," I reply bitterly. I press the end of the gun harder into the temple of his head.

"I am your father," he whispers.

I step back lowering the gun slightly. The man on the floor is slouched over but his head is now tilted up and his blue eyes pleading with me. He looks so truthful but I know that man killed my father. There’s no turning back. This wasn't just another person, this was personal. I could never trust a piece of scum, so there is no way I am going to believe him.

Raising the gun, I pull the trigger. The bullet hits him square in the stomach, just where I aimed. I force myself to watch and a smirk forms on my lips when his eyes glaze over in pain. He deserved it, every little bit of my sick revenge. 

Biting my lip, I will myself not to be sick as blood seeps through his white shirt. His body begins to fold like a bouncy castle without the air. I will not be sick, I am not squeamish, I am a criminal, and I do this all the time. I continue to chant this through my mind but unfortunately I know this will never get any easier for me.

That's one of the things my dad disliked about me. He hated that I was squeamish.

When I was eleven my dad made me kill one of his betraying acquaintances. He thought killing someone would make me like blood but it only made it worse. I remember the way my hands shook as I gripped the gun, my finger still covering the trigger. The way my mind went fuzzy and I felt like I wasn’t really there. I remember the body in front of me going limp as blood poured out like water comes out a tap. I remember the metallic smell of the blood that made me want to be sick. I just stood there and watched. Numb. I couldn’t take my eyes away but I didn’t want to look. Eventually I looked up and saw my father's face, he looked so proud of me; it made it made it all worth it.

My dad’s the reason of who I am and I’m doing this for him. 

Looking at the body in front of me I feel disgusted. This man in front of me killed the only thing I will ever love. I pull my eyes away from his body and turn on my heel to leave.

My head whips round at the sound of a ‘slap'. I scan the building checking for anything out of place. Maybe it’s my imagination. Ignoring the sound I take another step. I need to just get out of here. I hear the sound again and I swivel my body around, doing a full 360 of the building. Again, I see nothing. Suddenly I hear the sound again, and again, and again. I dart my eyes around checking the empty warehouse for any difference from before. I can't even pinpoint the source of the noise because I can't tell what an echo is or not. I look frantically around the room desperate to know what I am about to shoot. 

"Up here," the voice of man singsongs. Hearing his laugh, I quickly label it my least favourite sound. I raise my head squinting up to the beam where I was a few minutes ago. Watching his legs swing backwards and forth dangling from the steel beam I start to realise how irritating that is.

"What?" I snap.

He better not have rung the police. I don't have time to deal with them. I need to get out of this place; they’re the last thing I want right now! I know the guy on the beam isn’t the average citizen because not the average citizen could climb a corrugated wall-.

"You just killed my acquaintance," he replies.

Way to state the obvious. 

"So what do you want me to do about it? Resurrect him from the dead?" I say sarcastically. I seriously need to get out of here; I don’t want to get involved in his mess.

"I think a favour will do."

Seriously, doesn't he know who I am? 

"I don't do favours," I state simply.  

"Well I think you should reconsider because I will shoot," he pulls a gun out from inside his jacket and aims it towards me. Oh, it’s a gun, how intimidating! Note heavy sarcasm.

"Reconsidering, reconsidered. The answer remains no."

"I wasn't giving you an option." He raises the gun at me. Guns don’t work on me, not if he wants a favour. Think about it, if someone wants something from you their hardly going to shoot.

Silly boy, now for my trademark shot.

"Miss Black, I'll be sending you the bill for a new pair of shoes," he teases acting completely calm. He lifts his shoe up and inspects the new hole in the heel.

I didn't have anything to say to him so I start walking away.

            “You owe me and when the time comes I'll find you," he speaks harshly.