The Assassin ✓

Chapter One

"Don't you feel like it's all gonna end soon?" She whispered into his ear. The room was dark and you could only make out their shapes, you could see her head, blessed with loads of curly hair on it, get back to something invisible, leaving the guy alone with his thoughts. But he did not think for long.

"What do you mean?" To answer with a question. People debated, when calling it a technique. Some thought it was best; others thought it was not a good way to answer. Blair certainly didn't like it.

"No, No," she pulled out a cigarette and the room was shortly lit by the little light at the end of her lighter. It illuminated both their faces, revealing her soft features and then the cigarette was lit and the light - gone. "I meant - now. I feel like it's gonna end any minute now," she said, turning her head sideways and blowing out the smoke away from the guy. Her eyes were glued to his though. As if he would disappear if she turned away. And right now she was not sure it would not happen.

"You had too much to drink, darling," the man smiled, raised his arm and slowly touched her hand. His fingers slid across her arm though Blair seemed to not notice. She only blew out her smoke and thoughtfully looked out of th ewindow. "Give it to me," he said quietly as his fingers had reached hers and he pulled out the cigarette of her long fingers. Blair frowned and tried to get it back, but the guy had made up his mind. She hissed and pulled out a new one from her pack.

"I don't like you smoking so much," he spoke. He took away the ciarette once again and now reached for the pack, but she climbed out of the bed and walked up to the dimly lit window. Again the little light. She now lit her third cigarette and pushed her hair away from her face. There was a small light created by the outside lamp post and it illuminated her lightly. But the guy from th ebed could see her naked body, its sillhuette and her facial features - her lips, nose, eyes. She blew out the smoke once again and created a little fog around herself. She was a beautiful woman but it seemed tonight it was not enough.

"I think you have to leave," he quietly said. Blair said nothing. It was unclear if she did not hear him or pretended not to, but the man got up and started picking up the clothes lying on the floor. As he gathered them all, he walked up to the darkhaired woman, grabbed her firmly by her elbow and turned to face himself. He pushed the clothes into her free hand, yanked out the cigarette and doused it off.

"I want you to leave," he repeated. He saw her eyes and the spark in them. Her lips twiched, but she put on her underwear proudly, pulled on her jeans and her hoodie, folding her blouse into her purse; put the purse beneath her arm and her heels in her other hand. Without saying anything, she pulled open the door and left.

As she got out onto the street, she put on her shoes and lit another cigarette. Haivng pulled herself together, she started walking down the dark street, leaving behind only the echo of her heels and a cloud of smoke. Towards her was staggering a dark figure, but, though she expected a homeless person, it turned out to be a well dressed man who obviously had too much to drink. She stopped at the bus stop and pulled out her cell to check the clock. At night, the bus came once an hour. She compared the time and realised the bus will arrive in 30 minutes. Taxi would be quicker, if she could catch one. She sighed, turned her back to the bus stop and viewed the man, who was now a lot closer.

"Looking good, deary!" He said, leaning against the wall of the house nearby, as if afraid of falling.

Blair said nothing, just sat on the bench. She turned her back to the man and looked at the clock once again. More than anything she wished for the bus.

"Where's 'thank you'"? His voice was now a lot closer and Blair finally noticed he was still holding his bottle. He took a sip and sat next to her. She got up.