Post by Silence on Nov 17, 2011 19:27:29 GMT -5
Griffin (Griff) J. Marin is an Assassin (hence the title), he's twenty-two, and this story is told from his point as though he's looking back on what he did. This is the first book in the Avenging Violet series, so I guess EnJoY!
Assassin - By Dawns
Prologue
I was a killer.
I didn’t know at first, my memory wiped clean of what I would do in the middle of the night. Then one night, something happened, while doing my duty to my “family”, I was wounded before my task was completed. When it was done, I remembered every detail of it. I saw the light leave the man’s eyes whenever I closed my own. I almost felt his pain as though it was my own. I heard his last words over and over, “If you have any mercy, take care of my daughter.”
His daughter came shortly afterward, while I’d fallen to my knees, the sensation of prickling in my eyes. The horror in her eyes just made the threatening tears push closer to falling. I felt as though my whole life had ended when her bottom lip began to tremble and her eyes began to water. I wanted to go to her and comfort her, but I didn’t move I just stared at her as she began to weep. In the end, I couldn’t take it anymore and fled from the house.
Once I was in the car, I dialed my boss’s number and left a message when he didn’t answer. My voice cracked when I said, pulling hurriedly from the girl’s house, “I’m done.”
That was the beginning of the days I spent trying to put everything right. That was the day I realized that all those killings that had been reported in the paper had been done by me. That was the day I realized I was a monster. The day that I realized that I had to fix what I’d done, no matter the cost. I’d be willing to pay any cost, even if that cost was my own life.
Chapter One
I was a killer.
I snuck into the house, my footsteps like those of a ghost in a graveyard. I made no sound as I crept into the bedroom of a man named Travis Anthony. Travis was a man in his forties he was also the man I’d been sent to kill. I slipped through the shadows, nothing more then a phantom. I padded lightly into the man’s bedroom and carefully slid the knife from my pocket. I felt no feeling at all when I kill the man by stabbing him in the heart. Then I turned, as though I’d never been there, and walked away.
I climbed into the black truck and the engine roared to life when I put the key in. I back up from the driveway and drove away, the memory of the attack leaving me. It was a strange concept. When I drove away I remembered nothing of what I’d done, perhaps that was a good thing though. Now I’d never again have to see the look of pain in their dull eyes as my victims drew their last shaky breaths.
I drove away down the road, heading in the direction of the headquarters. I went to the back and parked, turning the key until the engine purred to a stop. I opened the door, putting the keys in my pocket. I walked to the door, and didn’t bother knocking. I went inside and strode to a door marked 304. This time I knocked, not wanting to be rude.
The door opened and a man, about thirty-two, stepped out into the dimly lit hall. His amber eyes squinted at me and then he waved me inside. He leaned against the wall and lit a cigarette, the smoke covering his face for a moment before he waved it aside. He coughed and I thought, well, that’s what you get for smoking you idiot. I’d never say something like that aloud to my boss, but it almost made me smile at the thought. He motioned to the box in his hand and gazed at me, I shook my head in disgust.
Jonathan A. Mortimer stared down coldly at me and asked, his voice hoarse from too much smoking, “Well, did you do what had to be done?” His amber eyes flickered to my unwavering gaze, and I flinched internally. I hated him. I really did. I was supposed to be some big mean evil killer, but to tell you the truth; I didn’t know what to do when I was around Mortimer. I was petrified of him, ashamed as I was to admit it.
I merely nodded, not really understanding what the man was asking me, my brain racking for the memory he spoke of, I found nothing. When he asked if I knew what he meant I shook my head, avoiding his unwavering amber gaze. I expected him to start yelling like all the other time, but he merely smiled, his cracked, uneven, rotting teeth making a shiver travel up my spine. “You’re dismissed,” his smooth, voice crept charmingly to my ear. I cringed and hurried toward the door, he was trying to act like he was some big old nice guy. I read in the paper that he was one of those behind those mysterious attacks. The police were unable to find the headquarters though, which Mortimer seemed thankful for.
When I was out in the dimly lit corridor Mortimer came to his door and the smoke from his cigarette burned my lungs and made me cough. He said smoothly, “Next time you fail, it’ll be the last time.” Then he gave me a sly smile before slamming the door in my face.
Please offer suggestions! Thanks for reading!
~Dawns
Assassin - By Dawns
Prologue
I was a killer.
I didn’t know at first, my memory wiped clean of what I would do in the middle of the night. Then one night, something happened, while doing my duty to my “family”, I was wounded before my task was completed. When it was done, I remembered every detail of it. I saw the light leave the man’s eyes whenever I closed my own. I almost felt his pain as though it was my own. I heard his last words over and over, “If you have any mercy, take care of my daughter.”
His daughter came shortly afterward, while I’d fallen to my knees, the sensation of prickling in my eyes. The horror in her eyes just made the threatening tears push closer to falling. I felt as though my whole life had ended when her bottom lip began to tremble and her eyes began to water. I wanted to go to her and comfort her, but I didn’t move I just stared at her as she began to weep. In the end, I couldn’t take it anymore and fled from the house.
Once I was in the car, I dialed my boss’s number and left a message when he didn’t answer. My voice cracked when I said, pulling hurriedly from the girl’s house, “I’m done.”
That was the beginning of the days I spent trying to put everything right. That was the day I realized that all those killings that had been reported in the paper had been done by me. That was the day I realized I was a monster. The day that I realized that I had to fix what I’d done, no matter the cost. I’d be willing to pay any cost, even if that cost was my own life.
Chapter One
I was a killer.
I snuck into the house, my footsteps like those of a ghost in a graveyard. I made no sound as I crept into the bedroom of a man named Travis Anthony. Travis was a man in his forties he was also the man I’d been sent to kill. I slipped through the shadows, nothing more then a phantom. I padded lightly into the man’s bedroom and carefully slid the knife from my pocket. I felt no feeling at all when I kill the man by stabbing him in the heart. Then I turned, as though I’d never been there, and walked away.
I climbed into the black truck and the engine roared to life when I put the key in. I back up from the driveway and drove away, the memory of the attack leaving me. It was a strange concept. When I drove away I remembered nothing of what I’d done, perhaps that was a good thing though. Now I’d never again have to see the look of pain in their dull eyes as my victims drew their last shaky breaths.
I drove away down the road, heading in the direction of the headquarters. I went to the back and parked, turning the key until the engine purred to a stop. I opened the door, putting the keys in my pocket. I walked to the door, and didn’t bother knocking. I went inside and strode to a door marked 304. This time I knocked, not wanting to be rude.
The door opened and a man, about thirty-two, stepped out into the dimly lit hall. His amber eyes squinted at me and then he waved me inside. He leaned against the wall and lit a cigarette, the smoke covering his face for a moment before he waved it aside. He coughed and I thought, well, that’s what you get for smoking you idiot. I’d never say something like that aloud to my boss, but it almost made me smile at the thought. He motioned to the box in his hand and gazed at me, I shook my head in disgust.
Jonathan A. Mortimer stared down coldly at me and asked, his voice hoarse from too much smoking, “Well, did you do what had to be done?” His amber eyes flickered to my unwavering gaze, and I flinched internally. I hated him. I really did. I was supposed to be some big mean evil killer, but to tell you the truth; I didn’t know what to do when I was around Mortimer. I was petrified of him, ashamed as I was to admit it.
I merely nodded, not really understanding what the man was asking me, my brain racking for the memory he spoke of, I found nothing. When he asked if I knew what he meant I shook my head, avoiding his unwavering amber gaze. I expected him to start yelling like all the other time, but he merely smiled, his cracked, uneven, rotting teeth making a shiver travel up my spine. “You’re dismissed,” his smooth, voice crept charmingly to my ear. I cringed and hurried toward the door, he was trying to act like he was some big old nice guy. I read in the paper that he was one of those behind those mysterious attacks. The police were unable to find the headquarters though, which Mortimer seemed thankful for.
When I was out in the dimly lit corridor Mortimer came to his door and the smoke from his cigarette burned my lungs and made me cough. He said smoothly, “Next time you fail, it’ll be the last time.” Then he gave me a sly smile before slamming the door in my face.
Please offer suggestions! Thanks for reading!
~Dawns