Assassins Heart

7

LONDYN:

The verdict had been reached- guilty. Hours had dragged on, every minute marked by the sounds of the misery from Dean and the watch of Gustavo- the guard who had been assigned to watch us. The men had long filed out of the room as did Adriano.

Adriano had managed to steal every ounce of love and forgiveness from my soul. I'd never hated someone as much as I have him. The more I dwelled on the fate that had been decided for Dean, the more I felt myself slip away.

The door scrapes along the floor, creating a sharp noise as the metal met the concrete floor.    "It seems to be your final night alive." A smug smile settled on his face as he walks into the room followed closely behind is the men from earlier. They take their positions along the wall.

His footsteps echoed sharply through the  space of the room, they beat against my eardrums, similar to the beating of my heart, as I feared what would become of Dean. His hands passed over the assortment of weapons.

"Gun, you said." He whispers. A sinister smirk creeps onto his face, it sits there, cold and dark. In seconds, he's standing before Dean. "You had a nice life, what a shame, you could have been much more. Any last words?"

The silence bites at the thickness in the air, for a while words go unsaid. "T-tell Mariam, that I l-loved her... more than I could ever love m-myself." The words are small, quiet. It's the most I've heard him say in the small amount of time I'd known him.

"Tristan, you got that?" He calls, one of the men in the line responds with a curt, "yes boss."  "Then it's done. Good-bye, Dean. I'll see you in hell."

There was no amount of horror that could prepare me for the monstrosity I had witnessed. Nothing could prepare me in seeing the life of another slip away, the passing of a soul, the loss of hope.

At first, the blood came gushing out rapidly from ghostly pale skin, strong and thick. The white t-shirt had quickly been stained a dark red. His eyes were open, and I knew he could feel his very life and fluid draining from him.

I'd seen the gun go off before I had heard it. The sound had been washed away by the scream of Dean even before the bullet pierced his skin. There was something in that very scream, a certain loss and pain behind it- not from the physical pain.

I on the other hand, had forgotten how to scream, my thoughts were playing catch up, I hadn't proceeded the whole of what was happening.

Death is brutal and unforgiving. It's fast approaching, or sometimes it's slow and takes its time, no matter what, it'll make you go. His journey ended here, his soul has moved on.

Would that happen to me too?

POV:

The screams enveloped the entirety of the room just as quickly as the smell did. The sight was gory and horrid, even someone like I couldn't stand to see it.

The girl in the corner, stared at the scene before her. She'd never moved even an inch. They talked about her, we all did. It wasn't every day you see a girl locked away in this room.

Adriano stood over the lifeless body, his finger still clenched tightly against the trigger. "Got get someone to clean this up." He motioned to Ronaldo, who went up the stairs in search of someone to clean the scene.

I'd met Dean on the first day he'd came here. He knew the rules, he knew the consequences, but sometimes money made you bypass the importance of life.

His greediness had been payed for by his own blood.

LONDYN:

I'm awoken from a ghastly nightmare, my body drenched in a layer of sweat. The scene of Dean's murder kept playing over and over, becoming more and more vivid. I couldn't remember when I had fallen asleep, or worse passed out.

My nostrils are immediately overcome by the smell of blood and bleach, my stomach gurgled. I had suppressed the urge to vomit for far too long, and it had begun to get the best of me.

Maids had come in earlier to rid the floors and walls of blood. Two of the men had stayed behind to remove Deans body. I feel the room has shrunken in size and I'm suffocating on the lack of space.

"Ma'am, your dinner." I hadn't heard the door open, nor had I heard the subtle footsteps walking carefully toward me. "Sir has requested you take a shower and clean yourself  up." The voice is clear, strong, unfamiliar, and rushed.

It most certainly didn't belong to Hannah who took her time taking and barely spoke above a whisper. "Where's Hannah?" I ask. The maid moves swiftly across the room to the bathroom, "I was told not to answer any questions" she says.

"Please, feel free to use the utilities given to you. You only have 15 minutes to shower, get dressed, and go about your business in there." I stare at the bathroom door, 15 minutes, I think to myself.

What could I possibly get done in 15 minutes? "I'll come back in exactly 15 minutes, please be ready by then. I don't want to have to call Sir, for you." She sets a fresh pair of clothes on the edge of the mattress, almost like she's afraid to even get too close to it.

With that done, she walks out of the room, leaving me staring at the bathroom door. The days that I had been here, I'd been using a bucket behind a dirty curtain.

I hadn't had the luxury of using a toilet in what felt like years. Pushing myself off the ruined mattress, I walk towards the bathroom.

The bathroom door is falling at the hinges, and every push or pull, elicits a creak. The handle is barely hanging on a thread, overall this bathroom didn't allow for any kind of privacy.

It could easily be accessed from the outside. Sighing, I pull my hair from the braid and let it fall down the length of my back.

I step out of the clothes I'd been wearing. The same dirty sweatshirt and jeans from when I was kidnapped. It was the word you heard on TV when you passed by the family room on your way to your room.

It was the word you heard in so many newspapers and live news but never even for a split second imagined it happening to yourself. That one word, was my reality.

My sick, twisted, reality.