The Assassin

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Remember me? I’m the owner of those eyes that watched you as you slept. Remember me? I’m the nightmare that you harbor, that waits to spring out before your eyes. The nightmare that would leave you paranoid for weeks and that would drive you crazy as you searched for me in an abnormal frenzy. Remember me? I’m that girl with the violin strapped across her back that is stuck there forever. Remember me? I remember you.

I remember you breaking in and then destroying my home beyond repair forcing me to move and find a new home that would escape your horrid destructive habits. I remember waiting for my revenge, a disturbing vengeance that would leave you scarred forever. The taste of my triumph over you is still sweet and I can still live through that exquisite feeling of euphoria that swept me off of my feet as I played through it. You don’t remember? Well I guess that today is as good a day as any. Sit down and let me tell you of my sick twisted victory.

It was past midnight and I crept through your room towards you. I ghosted up to you and soundlessly I rose above you. I dangled above you on a rope, an assassin about to carry on with her dirty work. I held my poisoned daggers above your throat reveling in my upcoming victory. Your eyelids fluttered and I moved away out of your vision without a sound. You tossed and turned making yourself comfortable and I waited patiently still filled with the adrenaline that always fills me before a kill. Then you settled and I moved back positioning myself perfectly.

I slowly lowered myself down until I was a mere two inches away from your throat. I moved up quickly to avoid hitting your chin when you exhaled shocking me and making me jerk. I swung myself to the side and released the tether holding me up landing gently on your silk sheets. I stood perfectly still when you moved around once again repositioning yourself, afraid that I had revealed myself. I moved ever so slowly towards you, the minute-hand on the ever-ticking grandfather clock in the corner moving faster than myself.

I watched you intently careful to notice any patterns that would help me mask myself so as to remain undetected. I watched your breathing habits and found a pattern for your tossing and turning. Then I moved, an impossibly slow crawl towards you. You almost got me once, you moved unexpectedly and one of your flailing arms almost hit my leg. Almost. I moved forward yet again even more cautious than before my eyes constantly moving, watching for any tell-tale signs of another movement.

I moved forward quickly then, my daggers once again out of their sheaths and poised for the strike. I closed the tiny gap between us then I rose up above your exposed neck and stabbed down with all of the force inside of me penetrating your throat up to the hilts of my daggers. I felt the satisfying pop as the tips penetrated the skin and drove inward. I could feel the curved blades slide inward without resistance and then I was caught in my ecstasy and I struck again and again and watched the blood flow out and stain the once perfectly white sheets.

Then I ran, afraid of being caught as you moved and stirred then stuck your long- fingered, slender hand to your bleeding throat. I made no pretense to hide the sound of my retreat. If the blood loss didn’t kill you then the poison would do its work. I ran around your bed then grabbed my still swinging rope and climbed upward. Then I hung there, eight perfectly round black orbs staring you in the eye.





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