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Upsetting too. I meant for it to look like a burglary gone wrong, not a contract murder.

His living room consists of a worn-out gray and white rug. One coffee table, one side table. I think they’ve been here since the beginning of time. As well as the three empty whiskey glasses scattered on them.

A TV hangs from the wall, but who steals those anymore?

No one. That’s who. Definitely not me. It would get me unwanted attention, walking around with that crap.

I’ll have to snoop through his bedroom later.

“Mmm. Mmm.” My victim reminds me of his existence.

I feel nothing for my target.

He’s just another task keeping me away from what I’m truly after.

Shiloh.

Her. Everything revolves around her.

Fortunately for Brian. Missing Shiloh means I won’t spend hours torturing him to death.

We’re by his kitchen counter, and I turn to grab the first knife I can reach in his top drawer.

One second, the blade’s in the air.

His blue eyes tear up, horror bleeding from them. Horror, but no confusion.

Though I have no idea why I’m killing this person, he does.

I’m not even mildly curious enough to remove my hand from his mouth and find out.

Tears spring down his cheeks when I sink the knife between his ribs. Blood sprays down his gray shirt as soon as I pull it out. He howls into my gloved palm, his body thrashing against me.

I have one hundred pounds of muscle on him, easy. He isn’t going anywhere.

Four more stabs and a whole lot of blood later, Brian’s body is nothing more than a bag of bones. He’s heavier than he was a second ago. All quiet now.

The knife clangs when I dump it in the sink. I slide Brian’s body down to the floor and get to business.

Taking off my gloves, I shove them into the pocket of my hoodie, then retrieve a second pair from my jeans.

Jerome asked for proof that I finished the job so,snapand there, he has it. I step over the dead guy’s body and search for his wallet around the house. The easiest thing to steal.

Brian has been kind enough to leave it on his couch so I don’t have to waste time rifling through his room.

Thanks, I guess.

One debit card and two twenties are what I take with me. I throw them in the closest trash can as soon as I’m out in the street.

I draw the hood back up on my head and leave to get to her.

I’m a monster. A ghost.

I’m done.

I makeit just in time to catch her stepping out of her building.

Just in time to stand there, seen and unseen, as my heart stops.