my dads an assasin, gee, you picked a great job dad!

my dads an assasin, gee, you picked a great job dad! 21

we drove away in silence. I kept glaring at my dad while he just stared out the window. We got to a house, he unlocked the door and gestured for me to enter the house.

"What the hell dad?" I screeched.

"It was what the client had planned." My dad answered.

"So you'll just kill somebody for a client?" It came out wrong, i was going to say me but it came out as somebody instead.

"You're an assasin. You will be paied to kill people. The sooner you get used to it the better." He snapped at me.

"Thats just it! I don't feel anything when I kill people dad!"

We both knew that it was a lie. I'd gotten used to killing people, sometimes it bothered me, sometimes it didn't. But I dealt with it. Thats just how it was. I stormed up to my room and flung the door as hard as I could. The impact echoed around the house for a few minutes. My dad didn't care. This wasn't the first time this had happened. I was still young, I still hadn't let this facade become my life. It was my life, but one small part of me still clung to the truth. I knew that once I accepted that my whole life  was only ever going to be lie after lie, It would get a lot easier, but for some reason I refused to beleive it. I kept clinging to that one small truth, and I didn't want to let it go. It was the only truth that I had, everything else was a lie. I was a lie.

I didn't know which I feared more, regretting a kill now and then, or never regretting them. I regretted one or two, but sometimes I wondered. Which would make me the bigger monster? If I just slaughtered witout any feeling, or if I slaughtered people and then regretted it.

That night I killed a guy on the streets. I snuck out of the house. I stopped by a store for some reason, but I didn't go in. A man tried to grab me, and I pulled a knife on him. I didn't think, I just aimed the knife and dealt him one of the many blows that could kill you. I wish I could say that I'd made it painless an fast, but the wond i'd dealt him would kill him in around an hour if the paramdeics didn't arrive before then. I didn't regret that kill. By morning tomorrow, I doubted that I would even remember him. I'd killed to many people to keep track of. What was the point in keeping track of all the people you killed?

For a moment I wondered if there was any alcohol in the house. I'd had alcohol plenty of times before, but i'd only ever gotten drunk on purpose once before. After my first kill. It had stopped my sadness, and the next few days the hangover prevented me from thinking of anything really. I was so tempted to go grab that alcohol and just drink my problems away. I knew what alcohol did, but then again, there was no justice in this world. I'd killed loads of people, and I was still here. Life was never fair. Nothing was ever fair. I'd never wanted this job, but I hadn't picked this job. I hadn't picked my dad, I hadn't picked my mom. I'd never wanted to become this, but I'd had to.

The next few days were just a blur. It took a few day for the effects of the alcohol to wear off. It was a bad hangover, but I'm pretty sure my first one was worse than this one. I think I nearly killed myself getting to the kitchen.

Most parents would be screaming at thier children and grounding them for life, but not my dad-i got yelled at because I was to chicken to murder somebody, you think my dad would be mad that I snuck out at night, killed someone, and got drunk? At least I think thats what happened, I couldn't really remember anything from last night-at least not until after the party.

I don't know how long it was until the effects of the alcohol wore off, but It didn't matter.

My dad didn't notice at all. He was just mad at me because he'd had to clen up my mess-he claimed i'd killed some dudes near a convinience store-which I couldn't remember, then again, I couldn't remember anything really. He wasn't made because I got drunk he was mad because my kills had been clumbsy.

The effects of the alcohol finally left me after what seemed like a few minutes. Everything was blurry from when i'd had the alcohol.

My dad gave me a lecture because I'd almost gotten caught. Not becase I'd yelled at him and slammed a door in his face after we got back, not because i'd gotten drunk and snuck out, not because i'd killed people, but because I'd left a trail. The cops had picked up on the murder. Thats why I was lectured.

I wondered what it would be like to have a normal dad that would get mad at me for sneaking out at night, snogging boys, and getting drunk. Instead, I had a dad that didn't give a damn who I snogged, when I got drunk, and whatever else happened. His only condition was that I recover from it eventually and cmplete my mission-if I had one-and not get caught.

That day I stole a car and then set it on fire and threw it off the edge of a cliff. I didn't grab one with a GPS so the cops had a harder time catching me. Okay, well, they never caught me, but they found the car. They said they'd found it in the ocean, but all I remember doing was setting it on fire. Did it end up going off a cliff or something? I couldn't remember.

Most parents would have freaked out but my dad was proud that-this time anyways-I was smart enough to steal a car that didn't have a GPS because I sucked at jamming the signal so that they couldn't track me-don't ask, It just never worked.

I walked outside for some fresh air and this insane turkey nearly murdered me. Thankfully my dad heard me screaming and killed the turkey with a knife-it sliced through my shirt, but not me thankfully. Can you guess what we had for dinner that night?

My dad called it a dinde-turkey in french if i spelled that right-and for some reason I broke down laughing. Within three seconds I was in hysterics. We finished eating the turkey. I tripped on the new rifle my dad had gotten at some point during my hangover and it ended up killing a bird. Ah what the hell, we've already eaten the turkey. We ate the bird too. My dad had some really weird sauce that went well with the bird. Though I have no idea what the sauce was, it tasted chinese-I knew it wasn't Italian-so maybe it was French? It wasn't that bad. My dad had gotten some fries from burger king, and they went well with the turkey and the bird.

We heard some squeaking noisesand we turned to see a bunch of rats.

"You're not going to cook that up are you?"

I'll admit that i'd eaten rat before, and so had my dad. It wasn't really that bad, but I wouldn't resort to eating one if there was anything else on the menu. My dad just shrugged and pointed ot that the stove was still on, and i'll admit I was still kind of hungry. Oh, what the hell. Bonne apattite-i know I spelled that wrong, my french isn't that good.