Morana, a thirteen year old assassin, a legend. She was born in France and raised by the French mafia.
She gets sent to kill a Cortello brother, she doesn't succeed and she gets shot, she is taken to the hospital and the police gets involved and th...
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It's past midnight, I got a message from Gabriel telling me that I only have three days to kill Domenico or else I am getting punished.
I was reassured at first because he can't get to me here. But he told me that he has a spy in the Cortello mansion so yeah... I gotta kill him.
I hear the bedroom's door next to mine close so I decide to wait thirty minutes before going into Domenico's room and kill him in his sleep. I made sure to wear something black that can make me less noticeable in the dark.
This is just something that I am used to do. Getting into people's houses, killing people in their bedrooms while they were sleeping peacefully with their significant other. And I have never felt guilty or bad.
However this time is different.
The thirty minutes have passed and it's time for me to go into his room but I didn't make any move to leave my own room first. I just sat there on the floor leaning my back on my bed thinking about how fucked up this is.
I remember the hack Gabriel taught me; whenever I feel nervous or scared, I cut myself. I didn't know it was wrong when I was young but now I do know, however it's too late. Gabriel told me that it's my body and I get to do whatever I want with it, I agree.
Forty minutes have passed and I found my courage to leave my room grabbing my knife, my biggest and favourite and sharpest knife.
I am in front of Domenico's room praying that his door isn't locked and it's not.
I walk into his room, it's peach black. But my eyes adjusted quickly to the low lighting and I can see his big body laying on its side, his back is facing me.
I walked slowly with silent steps until I was hovering over him. He's asleep and he looks so angelic, so innocent.
Afraid that I am gonna change my mind, I held my knife in the air ready to stab him directly is his neck to suppress his yelling or cry and he dies faster.
He gave me his last chicken nugget.
That sentence was being repeated in my head the minute I left that kitchen earlier this afternoon.
I have never experienced this. Never in my life have I had doubts about killing anyone. Hell, I killed my crush so fast you would mistake him for being my enemy.
Yet I can't seem to pierce his skin with my knife.
