Hell's Personal Assassin: Book 1

Chapter 3

"Michelle Antoinette," Dayna read out loud from where she was standing behind the couch, making my eyes roll. "March 4, 2015," she continued, my eye twitching at the thought of her doing this the whole time.

"Dayna?" I called out from behind me.

"Yes?" she asked innocently, making me turn over and look at her with a blank look.

"Leave."

"But I jus-"

"Leave or don't scream out the words I write in my ear," I deadpanned, making her roll her eyes at me and look back at the paper.

"Fine, I won't scream," she said in a sassy voice as I shook my head and turned back around to work on my paper. "The book I decided to...- write? Yeah, write- about is-"

"I will stab you," I growled at her, hearing a very un-lady-like snort in the back ground seconds later.

"Whatever," she responded while I started to write again- the smirk on her face evident in the way she spoke. "The author of this book is trying to convey that-" she started after a couple minutes making my pencil tip break as I spun my head towards her.

"You need to shut up," I said, finishing her sentence for her with a sarcastic smile. She glared at me and clucked her tongue, an impudent look on her face.

"Last time I checked the author was trying to express-" she started as she read from my paper "indignant feelings about certain actions, and that you should be indefatigable when it comes to a cause you believe in. Not telling me to shut up."

"Well then it looks like you didn't read the book correctly," I replied with a fake pout in her direction, making her scoff and stomp away.

"No, please come back! I was just getting to the good part!" I started "I was just about to write about how he thinks you're a b-"

"Michelle!" an eight year old screamed, making me jump in alarm and turn quickly to where it came from.

"What happened, Tiff?" I yelled in a concerned voice, hearing running footsteps coming in my direction.

"Why didn't you ever give me some of your sling-shots?" Tiffany yelled as she turned the corner, my bra in her hands.

My eyes widened into saucers as I saw her with three of my most expensive bras: my lace one around her neck, my sports bra on her head like a hat, and my cobalt blue bra that I adored the most in her hands like an army weapon- ready to shoot.

"Who gave you those?" I screeched, slamming my books and papers from my lap and onto the couch before racing towards her little body.

"I saw them in your room, and since you were busy I asked Zachary what they were," she said with a giggle. "He said it's a slingshot that kills most men," she continued slyly as she stealthily started to walk in the direction of the kitchen, armed with a bra.

'That stupid little asshole of a brother,' I muttered in my head as I let what she told me sink in.

"I wanna see if it works on daddy," she giggled out, five feet away from the door to the kitchen- my eyes almost popping out of my head when I saw that.

"No!" I yelled, grabbing her bicep before she could argue. "Those are mine, Tiffany. Give them back."

"Bu-But I just wanted t-to..." she said shakily with sad eyes, her bottom lip trembling. I gave her a blank look, showing it wasn't effecting me.

"Give them to me right now, or else I'll tell mom you broke our vase," I threatened calmly, making her little little eyes widen as she started to quickly pull of all of the bras in defeat and fright. That vase was in her family for generations, so when it 'accidentally fell' my mother locked herself in my parents' room and never left there for two months.