The plan was simple. Follow the girl around for a day and wait for the right moment when she's alone. From then on, it should have been easy-peasy. Kill and disappear, as always. Don't think, don't feel; just complete the assignment and move on. I should have been long gone by now, and yet I'm still here, the emotions and feelings bubbling up to the surface once again.
The girl before me doesn't even attempt to struggle. She stares at me with wide fear-stricken eyes as adorable as a kitten's. I have one hand around her throat which is so skinny that I can break it with a single movement. My other hand is grasping the hilt of my knife, the blade pressing against her throat. A tiny trail of blood trickles from the cut, staining the collar of her obnoxious pink sweatshirt. All I have left to do is one clean slice, and my job is done. That's it.
So why does my hand refuse to budge?
Her brown eyes swirl with the warmth of the morning sun, shining into the depths of my soul. My heart feels as if it's thawing from being frozen for years. My breath shudders as I press the blade a little harder against her skin, but just enough so I don't fatally pierce her. I clench my jaw as I will myself to take the last step; the one remaining action required of me to return to Eve's good graces.
And I can't. It's as if there's an invisible barrier which blocks me from completing the assignment. I didn't feel that when I murdered the little girl. Not even close.
"Fuck," I hiss. I remove the blade from her throat and shove her into the wall before taking a few steps back. I exhale through my teeth and glare at her. She shivers while reaching her hand up to rub at the visible red line on her throat.
I look her up and down. She's wearing a pair of skinny jeans with a pink hello kitty sweatshirt and white, pink-striped sport shoes. Her brunette hair is tied into a thick braid which I'd noticed from earlier. The lighting here is dim, but it somehow only accentuates her pale complexion. Her almond-shaped eyes are filled with fear and for some weird reason... curiosity. Her button nose fits her small face so perfectly, it's as if God himself carved each facial feature on her.
She doesn't look as skinny as she did the first time, but she is still built like a twig. She looks absolutely powerless compared to me, or to anyone in general, and yet... she has some sort of hold over me which disrupts everything I've known for the last sixteen years.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" I mutter, pacing back and forth across the room. I stash my knife back in my pants before running my hands through my hair in exasperation. I don't know what I'm doing. Why I'm doing it. None of it makes sense.
"So are you going to kill me or not?" the girl asks. Her angelic voice stops me with one foot in midair as I slowly turn towards her. I narrow my eyes at her in surprise.
"Do you want me to kill you?" I ask, tilting my head to the side in curiosity.
"I'd honestly prefer it if you didn't." She weakly smiles.
That smile somehow shines onto me like a ray of sunlight, pleasantly burning through my skin and warming my body. And her voice flows through my mind like a gentle melody, the very sensation threatening to bring back a part of me that was long dead.
"What the fuck were you doing outside that night?" I demand as I step closer to her.
"Taking out the trash." She shrugs, as if it was no big deal.
"Couldn't you have waited until morning?"
"Um... not really." Her face scrunches up.
I look at her in disbelief. "Were you afraid it would grow legs and walk out or something?"
Her face lights up. "Oh, that would be so cool if it did!" she exclaims excitedly.
I blink at her incomprehensibly. "You do realize I'm here to kill you, right?"
"Doesn't mean I can't find a walking trash bag cool." She pouts.
I shake my head. "Well, now because of your stupid decision, we're both in huge trouble."
"Wait, you're blaming me?" She huffs.
"Yes, I'm blaming you!" I answer furiously, throwing my hands up in the air. "If you weren't out that night, I wouldn't need to hunt you down!"
"So why didn't you kill me then?"
My tongue goes numb, because I have absolutely zero idea myself.
"It doesn't matter," I grumble. That's when I notice her sketchbook on top of the sink. I walk up to the counter and grab it. Flipping to the place where her pencil acts as a bookmark, my breath catches in my throat as I'm blown away by what I see.
It's a sketch of me... sitting by the window. She had managed to catch every minor detail about me on paper, and... I look stunning, even with the newspaper blocking my face. She had traced every shadow and detail. This girl may be a deadly nuisance, but there's no denying her talent. But I keep my astonishment under control.
"Were you... drawing me?" I turn the book around to show her the page.
"Yes," she softly says. "You... captured my interest when you walked in so I drew you."
"Hm..." I close the book and toss it to her. She catches it with a soft grunt as it lands square on her chest.
I lean back against the sink counter and fold my arms over my chest while I ponder on what to do next. If Eve had been watching me that night, there's no doubt that she has eyes on me right now. Maybe not her directly, but someone is definitely making sure that I complete the task. Someone who has the skills to match mine.
"So... what are you going to do now?" the girl gently inquires. I glance up and notice her nimble fingers nervously plucking at the fabric of her jeans.
"I'm going to find a way to get us both out of this mess you got us into," I answer. Then another thought hits me. "Why aren't you trying to escape?"
"What?" A look of surprise appears on her face.
"I mean, you can just run out through that door. Or... try to at least."
"I... I don't know," she stammers and looks down at the floor while nervously shifting her feet. "I guess I know that it's of no use to even try."
Hm... so she's either smart or stupidly naive.
Anyone else would have attempted to rush to the door as soon as the chance showed itself. And she had plenty of opportunities. Yet all she's doing is patiently waiting for... what? As much as I'd love to decipher the mystery of the way her brain works, time doesn't allow it. I need to figure out how to get us both out of here with minimum risk.
I sigh loudly and look around the bathroom. The room is completely windowless, and the pastel pink color of the wallpaper is hurting my eyes as escape options filter through my mind.
"What kind of bathroom doesn't have a fucking window?" I mumble with frustration.
"Maybe it's to prevent people like you from crawling in," she remarks.
I raise my eyebrow. I open my mouth to snap at her but then a small vent beside her legs catches my eye. I'm definitely too big for it, but perhaps Miss Twig here can fit.
"Can you crawl into that vent?" I point towards the metal mesh.
"Are you kidding me?" she asks in disbelief. "I'm not that small, you know. A Chihuahua might fit in through there, but I'm an adult woman."
"A woman built like a snappable twig." I roll my eyes.
"Well, I'm sorry that I'm not like you with your muscles and stuff," she scoffs.
"So you've been checking me out?" I smirk. "You got a killer kink or something?"
A bright sheet of red spreads over her cheeks as she bites her lip. And she looks... so fucking adorable.
And she is going to get us both killed if I don't focus right now.
"Look, at this point, I'm one hundred percent sure that we both have a target on our backs. You: because you witnessed a murder and me: because I didn't kill you. So you have to do exactly what I say if we both want to get out of this shitty situation alive. Understood?"
She merely nods as I roll my shoulders back and push myself off the counter. I take off my jacket, the cool air flowing through my skin-tight shirt, and approach her.
"Good. Now turn around so I can put this over you."
"Why?" She frowns.
"Because it is bullet and knife proof. Well, up to a certain point, but it will still protect you somewhat." I gesture for her to turn around.
"Oh..." she softly says before complying with my order. I hold the jacket while she inserts both her arms into the sleeves. I turn her around and roughly adjust it on her body before closing the buttons. I focus my attention on them, but I can sense her looking up at me. And the warm sensation from her gaze is sending my heartbeat to escalate as I control it from being noticable.
"There. At least you have better chances now." I step back to take a better look at her. She looks absolutely adorable in my jacket which is a bit oversized on her. I take a deep breath and shake away my thoughts.
"So what now?" she asks.
"Now, we're going to walk out of this bathroom. And chances are, it won't be easy so it is fucking crucial that you follow every single order from me without asking any stupid questions. And I'll be fucking damned if I'm betraying my fucking boss all for you to end up dead. Got it?"
A few seconds of silence before she finally speaks. "Got it."
I hold my hand out to her and she hesitantly grabs it. I immediately feel warmth surge from her touch and into my soul as I sharply inhale at the sensation. Tingles spread throughout my body when she tightly squeezes my cold hand.
"Your name is Jennie, right?" I ask.
"Yes..." She blinks. "How did you-"
I shrug. "Your friend is quite loud."
"Oh..." She nervously chuckles. The sound alone sends pleasant ripples through my body. "What about your name?"
Brief silence consumes the room as I hesitate on whether or not to tell her my real name. But does it really matter at this point?
"Ava. My name is... Ava," I finally say, already regretting it.
"Ava..." Jennie beams.
"We should get going now," I quickly say, leading her to the door. "Remember. Follow my words, and everything will be fine. Okay?"
She nods as my hand slowly turns the doorknob. The door squeaks open and my eyes meet the person I've dreaded to see. She's leaning backwards against the wall and holding a gun with the signature golden exterior shining maliciously at us. Jennie's grip on my hand tightens as I hide her behind me.
"Well, hello Ava," Lena says, her lips curving upwards into a venomous smile. She pushes herself off the wall and points the gun at us. "You're in a heaping load of trouble."
Fuck.
Word Count: 1950