To be a Criminal

Chapter 7

After a couple of hours of throwing blades at an unalive target, I realize the sun had started to set. I lose track of time too often nowadays. Nico had come out to update me on the news, saying that they're already arresting suspects for my kill. All suspects are men. Of course. Despite my being a female cursed with endless inequalities, no one ever thinks of the possibility that I could hold a gun. I always laugh at the irony. And if things ever go wrong, and they never do, I have my acting skills polished up enough that I'll always be seen as the victim. After I watch the last glow of orange fade away, I gather the knives to put away. Dragging myself back to my room to get ready, I realize how drained I am. The emotional hurt from earlier has strung my body out. My head is consumed with a pounding headache that pulses behind my eyes. Twisting the shower on I stand beneath the scalding hot water. I revel in the way it burns my skin, steam already filling up the bathroom. Moisture builds up behind my closed eyes. No. She doesn't get to win again. I push any remaining thoughts of that baby and my mother out from my head. I allow myself to stand still for a few moments more before washing my hair and scrubbing my body.

After almost an hour of getting ready I stare back into the mirror. My eyes shine against the dark smokey eye I have on. But my lips tip downwards when my vision trickles onto the scar on the lower half of my face. A clean-cut through my lips, across my cheek and almost reaching my undereye. It faded away in the years but is still quite visible. Visible enough to be memorable. That's why I wear my mask. I let go of a heavy sigh before tying the cloth around my mouth. Then I slip into my stilettos and check my knives planted on my thighs. The dress I'm wearing is a long silk material, in black colour of course, with a slit on both sides, allowing for easy access to my weapons. The fundraiser is supposed to be neutral grounds where everyone forgets about their grudges and betrayals. It's supposed to be a night without worry. But I've been in both worlds. The one where I was struggling in poverty with an absent father and an abusive mother and the one where I was the one with the power. In neither have I ever felt safe or trusted that people would follow rules. Quickly grabbing my purse then walking out the doors and down the stairs, I smile at myself. The first one here. I'm early.

"Woah no way", as if on queue Nico emerges, then plants his hand on my forehead. "she's not late, is she sick" I scoff and push him away. "you look beautiful Ami," the twinkle in his eyes almost makes me blush. I take a step forward and straighten his bowtie. The navy suit is tailored to fit him perfectly, showing his lean form.

"you don't look too bad yourself," that earns me the smile that would make most girls melt to the ground. That would've made the old me melt to the ground. But I've learnt never to mix business with pleasure. And I learnt it the hard way too. Enzo strides across the room, nodding a greeting to both of us before leading the way out the doors. I slide into the back seat behind Nico and let my shoulders relax as the vehicle pulls out of the driveway. Most of the drive is a blur of colours. The city is alive at night, laughter carries out from open restaurants and couples hold each other tight to save from the embrace of the dark.

Finally, we reach the venue.