“Look, take what you want but please just don’t hurt me.” She pleads, her eyes never leaving me.
I walk around the table to get to the same side as her, trailing my fingertips on the table as I walk. She was petrified, and I smiled at her. She was my target. My prey.
“I’m not a burglar, I have much more class than that.” I state.
“Then what do you want?!” she almost yells, and I can see her eyes begin to water in fear.
“Ahh, well what I want is world peace.” I muse, the corner of my mouth tugging up. I walk closer to her until she is pressed up against the corner of the counters. I was well aware of the fact the knives were a few inches away from her hands. “And in order for me to get that, I have to take out people who sell bombs to bad people.” I say, my voice low and threatening.
Her eyes widen at my words, and she swallows hard. “Look, I had to! I’m going to lose my job!” she explains frantically, I cock my head in fake interest as she carries on “I needed the money, and that’s all I knew how to do, I have a family to support and a house-”
I raise my finger up to silence her as I was getting bored of this now. “You see my problem is that not everyone who has financial problems resorts to making bombs that could wipe out a lot of innocent people.”
“I had to-”
I cut her off once again, pressing my finger on her lips and raising my eyebrows warningly. “You really should have just applied for benefits sweetheart.” I shake my head, the smirk still playing on my lips.
She finally realises that trying to reason with me will get her nowhere, so she resorts to plan B. I see her hand move quickly and grab one of the knives from the holder. She swings her arm back around with the blade in her hand, attempting to cut my face.
I duck quickly, grabbing her arm and slamming her wrist onto the edge of the counter so she drops the knife. While my grip is still on her arm, I raise my knee into her stomach causing her to buckle over and let out a cry of pain from the impact. I grab her by the throat and twist her around, moving my face so it is about an inch away from her. Her eyes are closed and I can see tears falling down her cheeks.
“You’re the target sweetie.” I breathe in her ear “No matter how much of a fight you put up, you’re as good as 6 feet under.”
She begins to sob and shake her head slightly. “Please-Please don’t do this.” she begs in between her tears. I roll my eyes, she knows she’s going to die either way she might as well have some dignity in her last moments. “Please-I have a family...I’ll do anything.”
I sigh deeply, fed up now. I let go of her neck and she falls to the floor at my feet still sobbing uncontrollably as she carries on begging. I reach behind my back and pull out my Walther p99 pistol that was tucked into the top of my jeans. I didn’t need to bring anything other than this gun to complete this mission, like I said it was a quickie. I aimed the gun at the shrivelled crying mess that was on the floor. As she saw the gun, her eyes widened in horror and she whimpered, raising her hands in the air to carry on her begging.
“PLEASE-PLEASE DONT DO THIS!” she cried.
I shrugged as I pointed the gun at her, aiming straight for the head. “You have only yourself to blame sweetheart.” And with that, I pressed the trigger. The loud bang muffled her last scream, before she slumped backwards onto the kitchen floor. Blood was pouring out of the hole in her forehead, and her eyes were open looking up at the ceiling.
I put the safety back on the gun and tucked it back into the top of my jeans, covering it with the jacket I was wearing. I glanced at the counter next to me, and reached over to the biscuit tin grabbing a cookie. I bit into it as I stepped over the body, making sure to avoid the blood that was rapidly spreading over the white floor. That shit gets on my shoes; it will be a mission in itself to get the stain out. Believe me, I have plenty of experience in trying to wash blood out of clothes, it is not easy.
I grabbed the files on the table on my way out to take back to The Agency. I’m sure Ed would appreciate having this type of information at his disposal, and would probably bitch slap me if I left it here for anyone else to get their hands on it.
I didn’t even glance twice at the body as I made my way out of the kitchen, still chewing at the cookie in my mouth. I didn’t need to glance twice, the job was done and that’s all that mattered. The evidence left behind is for the police to deal with. Not that they will ever find out what happened to her because the firm owns the police, using it to our advantage to cover the mysterious ways all these criminals end up dead suddenly. To be honest if the police did their jobs properly in the first place, us agents wouldn’t be needed.
As I made my way to the front door to leave the targets house, I froze as I spotted a small figure crouched at the bottom of the steps hugging his knees into his chest. I turned to look at him properly, and saw it was a young boy, around 7 years old. He was wearing toy story pyjamas and had short brown hair framing his baby face. His big brown eyes were glazed over in fear as he looked me, the strange woman who was in his house. This must be the targets son.
That’s why she kept glancing to make sure no one was coming downstairs.
I stared at the boy, whose frightened eyes were burning into me.
“Where’s my mummy?” he asked, his voice small and shaky.
I cocked my head as I looked him over. He was so innocent, too clueless about what his mother had been up to. I knew he didn’t deserve to have a mother like that, and I also knew he didn’t deserve to have his mother taken away from him like this.
Yet even though I knew all of these things, I felt nothing. No sympathy for him or guilt that I had just tore this boy away from his mother.
I raised my hand and bit into the cookie again, chewing on it for a while as I carried on looking at the boy. I swallowed the cookie in my mouth, and finally spoke.
“Mummy’s dead kid.” I tell him in a monotone voice. His lip begins to quiver and his eyes widen at my words, and even now I felt absolutely nothing.
I turned my back to the crying, mourning boy and walked out of the targets house.
At the end of the day, that’s all that woman was.
She wasn’t a mother, or a good woman who was just trying to make a living for her child.
She was just a target.
YOU ARE READING
The Shy Girl Has a GunAction
Faith Mitchell was never confident. She was happy to blend into the background, much to the protest of her friends. At 16, her life was a normal teenage cliche. She was in love with Jace, the obnoxious player who she couldn't have, and her biggest w...