Eleven Tasks

Go Time

I prepared myself for the murder. Master had given me a day to prepare the plan out and I was off from work so I had all day then at night to execute it/him. I shivered in anticipation as i twiddled my pencil. Ideas and evil schemes lit up inside me, fueling my burning desire. I licked my lips and scribbled down them as my heart bounced with anxiety and excitement. I felt the bloodlust in my eyes but I didn't care. This was such a thrill...

In fact, it could be a game... I thought. I was going to be doing this for a while. I was a slave to the hooded man, but I wouldn't let him control control me. No, I would be a master of my own decisions.  And my first would be my scheme of how to attack this man. I smiled and continued jotting down ideas.

Finally night came. 11:00 to be exact. I watched my husband's chest slowly rise up and down. I adored this family, so of course I would do any action imaginable to preserve the relationship I had with them. And it was a win win because it allowed me to burn off the stress I had since taking on double hours to even up for my husband's unemployment. He had been searching for weeks for a job, bouncing form one interview to another. I stroked his hair and slipped on my black hoodie and sneakers. Tonight would be messy.

After throwing my hair up in a bun, I raced out into the cold night, the moon casting a luminous blue glow upon me. I headed to the corner where Willie's shop was placed. As I peered from behind the rough brick wall, I watched his fragile figure push his glasses up the bridge of his nose and wave a late customer goodbye. The streets were otherwise empty; the customer must have been a friend of Willie's.

And he would be the last to see him alive. As Willie finished cleaning his little shop up for the night, I crept along the sides of the outside wall, crouching just below the windows. He was humming a melancholy tune as he swept his wooden floors. The door was open to let a chill of cool air in. In a deft move, I whipped inside the doors and ducked behind an island piled with children's books. He stopped moving and looked around. 

"Charlie, boy?" He whistled.

My blood froze. Was that his son, grandson? Instead of a lanky, acne-fied teenager, a floppy eared basset hound came trotting loyally. But then he too froze and stood aggressively, staring me straight in the eye. Willie just scrubbed him and he lost focus and barked with delight. 

"Come, boy."

He patted his leg and the dog followed him back into the same room He'd come out of. Willie flipped off the lights and I knew that was the signal. I fished the Exacto knife from my pocket and began to vigilantly step towards the door. I eyed the glare bouncing off the tool from the street lights.

 At least it was new. And sharp.