Page 40 of Princess's Revenge

The hoodie I’m wearing is big. I have the silenced Glock underneath in my hand, pointed forward, and you can’t even tell. My hand is rested on my hip—my elbow sticks out the back, the gun sticks out the front.

There are tents on either side so it just looks like I’ve got a bag under the hoodie.

I have to time this perfectly. I wait till he goes around the car and opens his door before Istart walking. I keep my pace slow and relaxed. I want him to be sitting when I reach him.

It’s time to channel all the hate and rage that’s been building within me for sixteen years.

Bitchy dorm mistresses, ragtag bullies, asshole bosses, cunty customers, abusive boyfriends…shrinks, doctors and everybody else who looked down on me because they thought I was nobody…

I get to his door as he sits behind the wheel. I could shoot him right now, but for some reason I say, “Mister, do you have the time?”

“What?” He adjusts his fat ass and looks at me like I’m a loser, “You don’t gotta watch? No phone?”

I sniff and play teary-eyed, “They stole everything at the bus station, mister. I’ve been waiting for someone to pick me up.”

He looks annoyed, “Hey, just get the fuck-outta-here-alri—”

THUNK. THUNK. THUNK.

Three shots to the face.

He looks like tomato chutney—Chunky, red, bone, sinew, brain and teeth.I hold back the puke, take a deep breath and—

SHIT!I’M ON FIRE!

The fucking muzzle flash ignited my clothes! I quickly pull out the gun and pat down the flames on my hoodie, then take a quick look around—no one saw anything.

We’re out of line-of-sight to the butchery. The shots didn’t sound any louder than a car door slamming.

I should probably take the money.If it doesn’t look like arobbery, it’ll definitelylook like ahit.

I search the fat man’s coat pockets and find three Manila envelopes, stuff them down my shirt, close the car door and use my sleeve to wipe where I touched it, then run back to the Hyundai.

The door opens before I get there.

Francis has a worried look on his face, “You okay?”

I nod. “Let’s get the hell out of here!”

My legs keep bouncing…it’s the adrenaline.

Francis puts his hand on my thigh, “Hey! Look at me.”

I turn to him.

“Are you good?”

“I’m fine, drive the car!”

Iamfine.

Fuck that fat asshole!Whoever the hell he was.

I’ll admit though…it’s a little tough getting the image of what was left of his face out of my mind. Hmm…nothing a little tequila won’t fix.

“Hey,” I tap Francis on his thigh.

“Yeah?”

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