It's Kill Or Be Killed...

Chapter 1 - Merry Christmas!

I lay awake, staring up at the damp, moulding ceiling. The paint peeling off along the side of the wall from when my roof leaked. The light doesn't work. Why am I even here? The money I earn could buy me a mansion, a Ferrari and a Porsche, yet I'm stuck renting some flea-bitten dump for 25 a night. The walls are paper thin and I hear every footstep, cough and chew they make. I know a lot about them from what I hear, although these people can only afford a dump like this, yet they don't even know I exist. This used to be a 4-bed house, probably owned by a rich, well off family who were quite big. I know this because three of the rented out rooms were still decorated in childish wallpaper when I arrived, 3 months ago. Since then the new tenants yanked it all off the walls, leaving them bare and thinner so I heard more. The people to the left of me are a struggling married couple. The guy had an amazingly good paid job, until he got drunk at the party and told everyone to 'pull their heads out the bosses arse' – he was soon fired. They lost everything; the house, the lifestyle, the friends. Now they're here, arguing twice a day minimum. The woman loves him but she wants to leave him unless he can sort this out and they get out of here. The people to my right; the interesting ones... Originally a teacher from a school 20 miles from here. He was a happily married, well paid maths teacher who didn't add up that him cheating with a student would cause a divide in the happy marriage. The woman kicked him out and after a long court case, won half his money. He now lives here with the student, pregnant with his child at the tender-ish age of 22, an age gap of 25 years. The guys opposite me? Chavvy schoolboy friends who thought they could make it on their own, using their wages from their part-time fast food jobs to pay this rent. Their dream of becoming rich footballers literally just a dream. And then me. The long-runner. The girl who's stayed in this place for longer than anyone else, but due to move within the next 48 hours. I know why, but they don't. I look at the time 22:40. The only properly functioning thing in this flat. The shared bathroom is beyond repair, we have to pour a bucket of water down the toilet instead of flushing it. Why this building hasn't been condemned I don't know! This place will fall down eventually...

BEEP BEEP BEEP. My alarm on my watch goes off. It's time! I jump out of bed and chuck my leather coat on, grab my bag and head out. I got ready ages ago, but always like to relax and clear my mind before a job comes up. My laced up biker boots are always a preference, but I leave muddy boot marks on the bed when I lay there. Exiting the room, I silently creep down the stairs and out the door, shutting it carefully behind me. I've managed this sneak in, sneak out routine for a while now, I feel like a ninja.

I grab my motorbike from the parking spaces round the back of the house and walk around the corner with it before starting it up. Putting my all-black helmet on, I jump on my bike excitedly and ride off. I know where I'm heading; they just don't know I'm going to turn up! Although the roads were mainly clear, any vehicles on the road I overtook at speed.

"What a lovely neighbourhood!" I say to myself as I pull up at the street I'm due at. It was beautiful. All the houses were huge, 4 bedrooms at least, 3 cars in each driveway, 2 garages. I pull up at the corner of the street and turn my bike off, leaving it out of sight. I leave my bike gear and helmet on as I walk past all the houses, eyeing up the house number until I reach '34'. I smirk to myself as I open my bag, ready to hand them the present I have been waiting to give. Walking up to the doorway, I see the lights on and a tv playing a Christmas film. Well it was Christmas Eve after all! Must get in the Christmas spirit! I certainly was! I hesitate with my finger hovering over the doorbell. How many of them will be asleep by now? I open the tinted visor of my helmet just enough to see my top lip. They didn't need to see who I was! I knock on the door. As I wait for an answer, I grab a knife out and slice across my leg, just enough for there to be blood. A woman opens the door.

"Hello?" She whispers. "Sorry, everyone else is asleep!" Just what I was hoping for...

"I need some help, I got knocked off my bike just round the corner..." I lied. "But the other guy is... in a bad way! Can you help me?"

"You're lucky!" She stated, "I'm a nurse!" I knew that... I knew everything I needed to about this family. She put her slippers on and ran out with me, I walked round the corner to where my bike was perfectly parked. I grab her and put my gloved hand over her mouth.

"Merry Christmas!" I state as I pull out a silenced pistol from my bag and put it to her head, pulling the trigger. She falls like a dead weight onto my body and I hold her there. Almost instantly, a black van pulls up, grabbing the body and flinging it in the back. Just on time. We plan so well to make sure there's no mess. Just on me. I nod at the guys in the van and they drive off. I jump on my bike and ride into an allotment. I pull of the bike clothes, anything that even has a drop of blood on it, chuck it in a pile with a load of collected leaves and set it on fire. In my trusty bag I pull out another set of bike leathers and put them on, a nice black set. My helmet and boots can be wiped clean. Another job done. My phone vibrates and I pull it out.

One New Message – Unknown Number.

I hear the job was successful. When I get my proof, the money is yours.

I smirk to myself. This is how I make my money. Not the most glamorous job but it pays well, I don't have to do much and it helps with my anger issues. You're probably thinking 'How did you get into this?' or 'What if you kill an innocent person?'. As far as I'm concerned, everyone is whatever people make them out to be. If a client tells me I'm killing this person because they stole money, I won't question that and the victim is now officially a thief in my eyes. I adopt the mentality of the client and it makes my life a lot easier. If I sat there and questioned everything I'd never kill anyone... I wouldn't have just earned 10,000. I jump on my bike and ride home, gleaming with pride and happiness of my success! Again, I get off my bike and walk it back to where it was parked originally. I sneak into the house and into my room undetected – like a ninja.

"You better sort your life out MISTER!" I hear through the paper-thin walls to my left. The woman is obviously arguing about the uselessness of her husband... again... I've had enough of this! I chuck my leathers, helmet and gloves onto the bed and I storm out of my room, knocking on their door. A fuming lady swings the door open.

"What?" She snarls at me. I just push her to the floor.

"Maybe if YOU stopped complaining every second of your life and used that energy to look for a job too, you'd both be better off!" I shout. "Just because you were a princess a few months ago and your husband paid for everything... Tough! Go get a job!" I slam the door closed for her as I walk back to my room. Maybe now I'll get some peace!  I walk back into my room, locking the door behind me, and walk up to the dresser next to my bed; opening up the top drawer revealing mounds of paperwork. Everything I need to memorise before a job. I flick through the papers; everything from names, ages and occupations of the client and their family to times they go to bed or have dinner. Everything has to be planned beyond comprehension because, if I were to get to someone's house and shoot them on the doorstep to find their partner or child looking blankly at me... Well you can just imagine the consequences!  I grab those papers and pull a shredder out from under my bed, plug it in and shred every piece of paper that I have to do with them. All evidence removed. I pack up the few clothes I have in this dump and chuck them in a black bag also stored under the bed. Followed by my cosmetics and my underwear, I look around the now emptied room and smile. I grab the shredder and sneak out of the house, sliding the rent money under the door and locking the door, leaving the key at the front reception before escaping.

One New Message – Unknown.

Next client in 5 miles north of here. Tell me when you get there.

I delete the message straight away, like I do with every message I receive. Guess I'd better get a move on. New town, new client, new victim...