My first assignment was going to be easy. Marilyn Carter was to be murdered. That was the only given specification. Murder. I thought my client would want me to frame someone, or at least someone in particular, but no, he just wanted Marilyn Carter dead. Brutally dead. Naturally, he paid me to comply.
Marilyn was a pretty ordinary woman. She kept all the doors and windows to her house locked at all times. She lived with an enormously fluffy labrador mix so she wouldn't get lonely, and she always made sure that her mace was within grasp whenever she left her home.
You might be thinking, "how will she be easy to kill? She seems pretty defended." Well, you see, my client gave me her house key. So the difficulty level would be pretty gosh darn low.
I sat quietly in my car, waiting across the street from where she lived. It would be another five minutes before she turned off all the lights and went to bed. It was then that I would make my move. I saw a fluffy tail in the main window metronome back and forth, back and forth. The dog seemed to have a pretty good disposition, given that his owner was about to be murdered. I felt bad for the animal for a brief second, and then I saw Marilyn walk across the living room in her bathrobe. She double-checked all the doors, ensuring that they were locked. Maybe she should invest in some nice, thick curtains. Well, she should have. It was much too late for that now. I chuckled to myself. This was sickeningly good fun. The thought sent goosebumps across my arms.
Marilyn's figure disappeared down the hallway, turning off lights as she went. It looked as though a shadow of darkness was following her through her own house. My heart racing, I unfastened my seatbelt and pulled the handle on the door of my car. It was time.
I clicked the lock button on my key fob. It would be a downright shame if my ride were to get stolen on the night of my first contract. Stalking through the brisk night, I mentally went through my checklist. I had the murder weapon, a (beautiful hunting knife) the key to her house, and the disposable cell I would use to contact my client when the job was finished. Perfect.
I slid the key into the lock on the front door, twisting gently, breathing with relief when I heard the familiar click of an unlocked door. I turned the knob and stepped gingerly inside, hoping the dog wouldn't run up to greet me. He didn't.
It took a moment for my eyes to adjust to the darker setting and I silently judged the soon-to-be-dead woman's taste in decor. The couch seemed to be several decades old, the carpet was shaggy and probably incredibly filthy due to the shedding fluffball she kept around. I took a step down the hallway and was not at all surprised when I saw that the walls were covered in professional photographs of her pet. She seemed to like the creature a whole damn lot.
Her bedroom was the last door on the right. It was wide open. I could see her lying on her bare mattress, scrolling through Facebook on her cellphone. Her back was to the door, giving me the opportunity to creep up behind her. I made sure not to grab her before the knife slid through her temple so she wouldn't notice my presence. Blood decorated my palm and fingers as I pulled the blade from her skull. I began carving a name into her unclothed backside. The client didn't request me to frame anyone, but I framed her sleazy brother Nick, just to be sure nothing could be traced back to me or my client.
I rinsed the bloody knife in the bathroom sink before tucking it back into its leather sheath inside my jacket. I locked the door behind me and placed the key under the doormat, being sure to wipe it clean of any fingerprints before doing so.
It had gotten a few degrees colder outside since I had left my car. I pulled my coat tighter around my torso and walked stiffly to my car. There was a thin layer of ice coating the windshield. I debated breaking out my ice scraper and scraping the windows, but eventually decided to blast the defrost and wait for the ice to melt. It would probably take the same amount of time but require less effort on my part. I sent a quick message to my client while I waited. "It's done."
When the car had defrosted, I deleted the message and then threw the phone out of the passenger side window once I had reached the highway. I was worried that I would miss the opening of the window and the phone would bounce back onto the seat, but I made it on the first try. I was impressed with myself.
I slept well that night, feeling very accomplished. The morning after, however I felt quite differently. I woke to a very loud crashing sound in the kitchen. I sprung out of bed and was down the stairs in an instant. I was greeted with paws. Yes, that's right. Paws. A dog had somehow managed to make it into my house and absolutely destroy my kitchen. He looked familiar, but I couldn't quite place where I had seen him before. I recognized him as he lifted his leg to pee all over my cupboards.
It was Marilyn Carter's dog. How the hell did he get into my place?! I felt a cold tap on my shoulder and I whirled around.
"Boo."
I screamed. Like a little girl. Before me stood Marilyn Carter, her stab wounds completely sealed and scarred over. Her skin was a phantom white color and her clothes were faded, almost transparent. If I didn't know any better, I'd label her a ghost.
"Remember me?"
I nodded desperately, my hair flopping everywhere in a poor attempt to keep up with my head. She hovered closer to me. I gulped. Hovered. Just then, I noticed that her feet were not touching the ground. She was floating. I sank to my knees. Maybe she was a ghost.
"Good," she said loftily. "I remember you, too. I remember what you did to me. Almost like it was yesterday. Oh wait. It was yesterday."
I swallowed hard. "W-what do you want from me?" I stammered
She floated an inch away from my nose. No breath escaped her lips as she breathed, "To haunt you for the rest of your days."
Great. Just what I needed. My first job, my first kill comes back to haunt me. Literally. Wonderful.
"Why haunt me? Why not haunt the guy who hired me to kill you?" I asked bravely.
She hesitated. "You...you were hired to kill me?"
I nodded vigorously.
"By whom?"
I told her.
"Why, that no good, lying, son of a seabiscuit!" she swore. "He's my ex."
My eyebrows shot to the ceiling. Wow. My client sure had a flair for the dramatic.
"He's always been a bit of a drama queen," Marilyn agreed. "But I can't haunt him because he wasn't the one who actually killed me."
Shit. "But I do this for a living! You can't haunt me, what if I end up getting haunted by all of my clients' victims because of you? I won't be able to keep working!"
Her pale aura shrugged. "Rules are rules. You killed me. I haunt you. That's the end of that."
I sighed and rubbed my temples, groaning when the dog came up to my face and began to lick it like no tomorrow. "Alright, alright. What do you want from me?"
"Can you take care of Vincent for me?"
"Fine. As long as you stay out of my way when I'm on a job, okay?" I pat the dog on the head for convincing measure and he stopped licking my face and lay at my feet.
"Stay out of your way?" She smirked. "I could help you. I mean, I'm a ghost after all."
I was struck with the sudden realization of how much better my job would be with her as my partner. It would be so much fun, having a ghost assist me. It would be easier to cover my tracks too, and I wouldn't ever get lonely.
I looked up at her beautiful glowing eyes and grinned. "Let's do it."
