Page 3 of Hitman's Prize

Sammy

I can smell the iron in the air mixing with a hint of smoke.

When I’m alone, I cover my mouth and swallow down any attempts of throwing up. Never having been put in a situation like this, my body doesn’t exactly know how to react.

I’ve seen a handful of bad things in my life but never a dead body. Especially not a family member. All those crime shows I’ve watched? None made it seem this horrible.

My uncle remains lifeless on his chair. Without his obnoxious snores, the room feels unfamiliar. The television is all I’ve got to listen to and thanks to the stripe of blood across the screen, all I can hear is muffled buzzing. What is the woman selling on the other side, a cooking device?

My heart pounds while my body feels like needles are pricking my skin from all angles. Am I having a panic attack? Seems a bit justified. Maybe this is the first wave of shock. I have to put breathing on manual mode, otherwise, I’m going to pass out.

There’s so much blood. More than a human body should have.

I just happened to look out my window to see the man resting against the tree smoking a cigarette. At the time, I didn’t think anything strange of it. After all, my uncle is the type of man who had strangers come over all the time. It didn’t matter if he was sober or not.

I’ve never had a stranger catch my attention, let alone make me stare. I’m not sure what it was about him that made my eyes linger for so long. Thanks to my darkened room, nothing gave away my secret staring session. Taking advantage, I watched each time his cigarette lit up in the dark night.

Disappointment filled my gut when he abandoned the tree and trudged forward. If he was meeting up with my uncle, then he can’t be a good man. Not the kind my heart should thump for.

I’m not supposed to leave the attic, not while my uncle is home. It’s one of those unspoken rules that I always followed without argument. Personally, being around the man makes me uncomfortable. He never entered the safety of my room and I never entered his space either. I never wanted to think about what would happen to me if I broke those rules.

Sometimes, I think that my uncle forgets that I live up here on my lonesome. The only signs I ever give away are the missing foods from the kitchen when I sneak down to eat. Sometimes I clean too, but only because I’m bored to tears. There’s always something around the house to pick up.

Tonight, I broke that unspoken rule. I craved seeing this stranger up close. Seeing what kind of man wanted to tangle himself up with a man I considered crooked, I needed some kind of flaw to get rid of this impossible-to-ignoreurge. Urge to do what, I’m not sure.

So, I snuck out of my living space and crept silent as a mouse. Thanks to always wanting to be unnoticeable, I have mastered walking without a sound, for the most part. The trick is to only step on the toes, which gives more control to avoid any slip-ups.

I made it halfway through the dining room before I heard the loud pop. Instinctively, I grabbed the vase on the table as if I could use it to protect myself. In my mind, I knew exactly what that sound was. Yet, it wasn’t enough to stop me from continuing forward to confirm my suspicions.

When the floor creaked without warning and gave away my location. I don’t know what made me drop the vase; the gun pointed in my direction or the stranger holding it.

Half of the butterflies in my stomach were flying high while the other half were dropping dead, weighing heavy in my gut.

Maybe I’ve been kept away for too long. My reaction can’t possibly be normal. After all, what kind of normal person catches interest in a killer? I stare at him wordlessly for seconds which feel like an eternity.

At least I managed to ask him to leave after finding my tongue. Surprisingly enough, he agreed.

Now I’m here staring at my uncle and risking an injured heel no matter where I step. I don’t feel good. If I call the cops, what will they think? Will they expect I did the crime? This thought leaves me feeling even worse.

Covering my mouth, my next breath comes out trembling.What should I do?

I don’t hear the front door open again. Only when I feel the cool air lick at my calves do I realize that I am no longer alone.

Not only is the stranger back, but he is coming straight at me. Did he want to finish what he started? I don’t want to die. When my mouth opens, I am sure those words come out as well. So numb to the situation, I’m not even sure what words leave my lips before he reaches me.

There is no gun in his hand, only black gloves that I didn’t notice before. How am I going out, strangulation? I’d prefer to get shot, it’s a much quicker death.

My body is stiff as a statue, unmoved from what I can only suspect to be fear. In this kind of situation, what other reason do I have?

Instead of wrapping his hands around my neck, he grabs my arm and tugs me in his direction. One moment my feet are onthe ground and the next, they aren’t. He’s hosted me onto his broad shoulder without any warning whatsoever.

More broken shards break under his boots as he starts walking toward my uncle.

I close my eyes tight, not wanting to see what he’s doing. The smell is even stronger up close. Holding my breath until my lungs burn, I don’t suck in any air until we’re moving again.

Heading back toward the entrance of the home. I don’t realize that I’m being kidnapped until we reach the door and the winter air chills my body down to the core.

“Hold still,” he orders when my limbs start wiggling. He grunts when I hit his back with a few balled fists.

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