Hit List

HIT LIST

“It wasn’t what I wanted to do,” I couldn’t look into my mother’s face. She is sitting in the large oak rocking chair across from me, the one she would sing me to sleep in as a baby.

“Mom, please believe this isn’t what I wanted to do. I had no choice.” My mother, Amy, is a pale woman with wavy salt and pepper hair that swayed at her shoulders. The redness of her face brought out the blue of her eyes and the pain came dripping along with her tears, rolling down her cheeks. There is a small, black book sitting between us on the coffee table, with a black, leather string. Beside the book is an old, flower suitcase that belonged to her when she was a child. It was a rather ugly thing, but she insisted that it was still in perfectly good condition, so why get rid of it? I looked toward the widow. The light coming in was dim because of the dull grey clouds that covered the regularly sunny, blue Californian sky.

“You… killed people, Kate. How am I supposed to ignore that? How am I supposed to pretend that things are normal?” She kept her voice to a low hum, a voice that reminded me of childhood when I was in trouble.

“Mom, please let me try to explain…” I finally met her eyes. They’re tired, worried, sad, but there was no trace of fear. She is sitting across from a murderer and yet, there is no fear in her face. Her lips parted just enough for me to hear the small “no” bubble from her lips. This wasn’t going to work. Mother wasn’t going to make this easy.

“I don’t want to know what caused you to string up a woman by her feet in front of her house or why you left a man in the lake with his arms and legs tied together. Or whatever the hell you did to all those people. You are a cruel, wicked, evil child. And… and I’m going to call the police,” she stood up quickly. Amy rushed into the kitchen where her phone was on the counter. She continued, “there is no use of running. I know you better than you think I do and I will lead them right to you. I don’t care. You are not my daughter anymore.” She came back into the living room, locking her eyes onto me. I could tell how determined she was to keep me from doing anything bad ever again. How determined she was to make sure I was locked behind bars and rotting for the rest of my life.

“That’s not what you want, Amy. You don’t want any of those things you are thinking about.” Her breath left her body and the little bit of color vanished from her face.

“I know you don’t want to call them,” I stood and took slow steps toward her, “you want to protect me, as you always have. Keep me from the evils of the world, make me soup and rub my back. Tell me stories of happy boys meeting happy girls and living happy lives together. But that isn’t always how it is, is it Amy? Sometimes, evil boys convince innocent girls to fall in love and carry their baby before leaving them. You felt the burning in your womb as I grew. And even with all the love you tried to give me, all the darkness in the world you tried to hide, I still turned out just like my father.” I grabbed her phone out of her hand.

“Get out of my head,” she whispered.

“Soon, I won’t be able to read your mind.” Her eyes widened with fear. Amy glanced down at the book and back to me. She pushed me back and lunged at the book on the table, grabbing it with her right hand. Amy turned, trying to escape only to run into me, standing in front of the locked door.

“Give me the book.”

“Get the fuck away from me! Let me out of this house!” My lips curled into a smile.

“Amy, I know you have a pocket knife in your back pocket,” I grabbed her wrist and pulled her ear next to my lips, “I can smell it.”

“GET OFF OF ME!” She screamed, pulling away, running toward the back door. The backyard was enclosed with a ten foot wooden fence, so seeing her try to scramble up that might be a nice show. I followed her out and watched as she uselessly jumped, clawing at the top of the fence in hopes of freedom. Amy whipped around, back pressed against the fence. Her left hand gripping the black, leather book, and her right hand with the pocket knife. I walked closer.

“STAY AWAY FROM ME!” I continued. She swung her pocket knife at my chest only to be stopped by my right hand gripping her wrist. I twisted up until she yelped in pain and dropped the knife into the mowed, green grass.

“I’m going to give this book to the police and they’re going to know it was you who killed all those people! Your disgusting fucking hit list!” I pulled my dagger strapped to my thigh under my long, torn dress and dug it into her body, right under her stomach. Her eyelids fluttered upon the shock of the dagger cutting into her. I rip the dagger out with a smile and bring the blade to my tongue. Amy dropped the book and pressed both hands to her wound. With a swift sweep to her ankles, she fell to the ground with a scream of pain. My hands slowly snaked through the grass until my fingertips wrapped around the book. Unwrapping the leather strap, I open the book and flip through all the blank pages until one certain page. I open the book and flip it to show her.

Amy McIntosh

“Please don’t…” she begged me with her trembling breath. I wiped the blood on the blade across the name in the book.

“You have been nothing more than a host to me. Something that grew me, birthed me, and sheltered me while I killed… and killed… and killed.” I picked her up and carried her into the house, resting her against the staircase. In the kitchen, I grabbed zip ties and locked her wrists against the posts of the hand rail. I put my hat back on, my dagger in the holder on my thigh, and grabbed the suitcase. Before leaving the house, I walked to the woman on the floor and looked right into her eyes.

“Why,” she mumbled to me.

“Daddy misses you, mother dear,” I smile at her. I turn to the end table that has her candles and box of matches. Picking up the end table, grabbing my suitcase, I walk out the door. On the front porch, I light the match and throw it toward the emptied gas cans that litter the front yard.

“For you, daddy,” I toss the match to the front yard and watch the flames slowly engulf the house. A hand touches my shoulder. A heavy, warm hand wearing a black glove.

“I will make sure she is well taken care of,” a man’s voice teases behind me. The hand lifts from my shoulder and the man dressed in black walks through the flames and into the front door, shutting, and locking it behind him. I bring my eyes to the suitcase and open the zipper just an inch to see the once empty bag now full of cash stacked on top of each other. Now isn’t the time to count it, there will be plenty of time to count and spend my one million dollars once I leave here. My father spoiled me, I will admit, but he truly is a good man, once you get to know him.

I walked out of the driveway, wheeling my suitcase along next to me, and headed down the road. Within no time at all, I will just be another girl. Another face lost in the crowd. The only difference is, I have a very powerful ally.

As I walk down the road between the rows of pine trees towering either side of me, I see a black, leather book, lying in the middle of the road.

I smile.