Page 93 of Scarred Assassin


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I had hissed and removed the earbud when he asked if he could come to me later at night.

Getting to Kendal and Ariana’s school, I rested for a while in the car and ate a pack of Doritos from the stuff I got for them.

I went to Kendal’s school section and after requesting for him in the principal’s office, the secretary directed me to sit on the bench in the hallway.

Several students passed by, signing to each other. I sighed and went down memory lane to keep myself busy.

FLASHBACK

I was eighteen and preparing for my third kill. South African police were already searching for who Alex was, because I had killed Austin Frank and dropped a note at the scene.

I had stabbed him five times in the neck before leaving the knife on his table. He pleaded and continued insisting that he didn’t rape me and that I was just making things up, but I wasn’t.

I didn’t make anything up. He honestly did bend me over the desk and promised to heal the pain between my legs, even when I told him it no longer hurt.

He tried to gaslight me, I knew, but when he first told me, I thought I was really making things up. It wasn’t until I started having nightmares that I believed that it really did happen.

Dan West was going to be my second kill as Alex. He did the same too, told the police that nothing like that had happened and that he suggested they take me to a rehabilitation center since I was making up things and could implicate a lot of people.

I wish I was, then I wouldn’t have nightmares of them doing it all over again.

My mom had believed me. She said she trusted me and I never knew how much I wanted someone to believe me until she did. I was going to kill them all, and I prayed to have dreams of that, so I could enjoy it all over again..

“Where is he?” I asked, speaking to my karate master through the interlink.

“Take a left turn, the third house on the right.”

“Okay.”

He hummed a song and I rolled my eyes. He loved singing and couldn’t sit still without humming something to himself. He told me stories of how his father would hit his mother over silly things, and how one day when he told his father he wanted to be a musician, his father tried to hit him with a chair, but he got saved by his mother who fell down the stairs by mistake. She died on the spot.

I rang the doorbell about four times before Mr Dan opened it. I waved at him with a smile, and he looked at me for a while before squinting his eyes.

“ Alexis George? What are you doing here?” He remembered my name and even my last name. Why wouldn’t he, that same name had tried to file a case against him.

“I came to see you sir.” I shook my upper body as he took me in. I was dressed in a black skirt that ended on my thighs, with a tight black top that groped my breasts. He licked his lips and smiled back at me.

“Come in dear. What did you come to see me for?” I entered and saw that he was watching a soccer match alone. He pointed at the couch and as I sat. “Would you like to drink anything?” He asked my exposed breasts.

“Anything sir, but first I came to apologize for making up things at your office. It all just came back that I was truly making things up.”

“It’s okay love, shit happens.” He sat extremely close to me as he trailed his fingers on my thigh. I had never had any consented sex, but I still gave him a tight smile.

As long as he died tonight, I would do whatever he wanted me to do.

He saw my smile and beamed even wider, assuming he had my consent. What he didn’t know was that the body could betray, which was why sexual consent was words instead of expressions.

He relaxed beside me and trailed his fingers up my arm. “Do you want me to take care of you?” I nodded at him, coyly trapping my bottom lip between my teeth.

He wrapped his hand around my hips and pushed me to straddle his laps. He immediately started grinding against me and I shut my eyes in disgust. He tried to kiss my lips, but I dodged, causing him to kiss my neck instead.

I hadn’t had my first kiss and I didn’t want it to be with an older man.

He laid on the couch still holding me, and I straddled him once again. He dry-humped me, groans rolling out of his mouth.

I couldn’t take it anymore, so I took one of the throw pillows and smothered him. I flung my hand to my back, brought out the knife I had strapped to my waist and stabbed his chest. His screams muffled into the pillow. His hand found my neck and he grabbed it, trying to choke me.

He tightened his hold on my neck just as I tightened my hand on the pillow and twisted the knife in his chest. He refused to let his hand off my neck, but he was losing blood and I was losing oxygen, my eyes paling as I managed to remove the knife and stab it back in.

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