Miss Angelina [✔]

[6] Acquiesce

"Is there any way to choose who I want to target properly? What if they're a nice person?" Florence had brought up while slipping into her underwear in the bathroom. I was sitting on my bed, pulling up my stockings, stumped for a response.

Of course, it seemed like a daunting task. Killing a man wasn't all pleasure if you weren't used to it. The idea of taking a life might seem like a treasure to her - and it might be, much later - but for a while, she'll be up all night asking herself questions about him, 'What about his family? His mother? How will she cope with the loss of a son?' which will wreak havoc on her mental state.

Though I hope she finds herself lucky that she has myself, who went through that stage quickly. It didn't happen with the killing of my fiancé and his mistress; I wasn't wholly delusional to think anyone cared about them anymore. They had ruined their family's reputation, but I did leave a letter to their parents saying they had run away - amusingly no questions were asked.

My first real killing of a stranger took a significant toll on me. At that point, I didn't have anyone to help me through it with encouragement. It was utterly devastating; I spent hours wondering about that man. Truth be told he was homeless and recently kicked out by his wife after cheating on her throughout their fifteen-year marriage. He jumped at the chance to be in my bed. So, taking his life was easy. The following month was not.

His name was Francis, and he had an odd aura about him; it was as though his soul was devastated, but his mind was not - he was all confident and in people's faces but couldn't stand tall enough to portray it properly. His eyes were dark, his hair shabby and long, and he had slight stubble as though he hadn't shaved in a couple of weeks. His picture was all over the news - his ex-wife, though still married, cared enough about him to wonder about his whereabouts - his mother and father pleaded for his safe return home, giving full apologies to him for abandoning him.

Alas, my guilt shrunk, and so did my humanity when the news reports stopped appearing as often. My guilt had gone by the time the final report came about.

"You just have to remember that no one is as good as they seem, sweetheart," I whisper brashly straight into Florence's ear as I pull a belt around her waist. I bite my cheek realising it wouldn't do and look towards the closet to my left. We had moved, so we were standing in front of a full-length mirror. I had decided to let her borrow something of mine instead of spending hours trying to find something respectfully tempting in her closet.

Luke and I had chosen a tight black mini dress for her, deciding that a safe choice was better than being out there for her first hunt. I could see Luke was sitting in the corner of the room flipping through a paper, looking either frustrated or bored; perhaps both from the reflection in the mirror. He catches my eyes and gives me a comforting look. He seemed to be able to tell how on edge I was about this entire experience.

"You can always change your mind after choosing a target. I told you that before; if you think they'd get you caught, or people would ask about them you can always stop yourself," I dictate. I'd done it many times, decided otherwise on a target. There were times when I'd be so interested in a target, I'd have to text Cleo or Luke to come and get me because I was too tempted to bring them home with me. I was frustratingly stubborn, even against my own willpower.