Cold Assassin ~Rewriting~

Cold Assassin

Done. Done with my job. I killed him. I started to go down the stairs. The car waiting for me. I got downstairs and placed the tiny bomb on the table which would start a fire. It was set to go off in five minutes. That would give me enough time to get in the car. I left the small house through the front door making sure no one was watching me get out. Pretty easy since it was early.

"Is he finished?" the driver said with a cruel smile.

"Yes." I said coldly. "Now can we get the hell out of here before I get caught."

He started to drive . I felt nothing. I killed him, it was just another ''job'' I had to do. He was a problem so I was sent to take care of it. I was sent because no one would suspect me. I am six-teen. No one ever thinks a six-teen year old can do a thing and here I am killing people.

 I was raised and bred by assassins.  My parents were the most wanted assassins in the world.  For them it was an honor but for me it was terrifying to know that my parents were wanted killers. 

The funniest part of my crazy life is that no one knows who we are. We are right under their noses and they can't find us. I sort of hope they do, so I can stop killing people. I just want to stop everything but I don't have the strength to.

I had feelings, once. They drained them out of me. My own parents made me the cruel assassin I am today. I was terrified at first. Having to watch people being killed and some times even tortured was not something normal people are exposed to. The sad part is that I eventually got use to it. There was nowhere I could go where they wouldn't find me and they made sure I knew that. I was threatened everyday during my training. I thought about trying to escape multiple times but I never did. Now there is no going back for me. I am one of them.

The police named me the Cold Assassin. They think I am in my late twenties but of course they have no clue. Not a single piece of evidence has been found to give them a lead. The police haven't even released my  parade of killings to the public. It's always covered as some sort of accident. Wouldn't it be alarming to have an assassin going around? I am a "top secret" killer case, just like my wonderful parents. All they have been able to do is find out my killing technique and that's the only reason I have a name. Lets just say I like things done quick.

I have never stopped to count how many people I have killed. I am a terrible person and I can own up to it. I hate my parents but they are all that I have. I don't have any friends or siblings. Not even a life. I have to live with it. They told me that I was special. I was little and I paid attention. I learned how to kill.

I still remember my first "job". I think everyone would remember their first. The guy was named Seth. I had to kill him with a knife. My parents warned me never to kill anyone with a knife, but I did. I had to. He was going to call 911.

I grabbed the knife from his kitchen and aimed straight at his heart. I could never forget his face when he saw me get the knife. Sadness was in his eyes. Everyone elses eyes were always filled with horror. He was something different. After I killed him I went to the same old car and started to cry. I was twelve. I was twelve when everything started to change. I was twelve when my life ended. I was twelve when I became me.