I grasped at the well-worn countertop as the stranger pounded into me like an animal trying to rut. There was no rhythm, no rhyme or reason, and because of that it was doing nothing for me. Typical.
Luckily, it wasn't but a few more wild gyrating thrusts before the heavy weight of a limp body fell against by back and the man thumped to the floor. On my way to the stall to clean up, I threw a "you could have gotten here a little sooner" to my partner in crime. Miranda stood there caping the now empty syringe and putting it back in her bag.
"Well, I didn't expect you to be able to get him alone so quick, I barely got to finish my drink." She shot back accusingly. I was too preoccupied with righting my appearance to continue with the jabs. Jobs like these make me exhausted and I just want to go home at this point. I walked back over to Miranda and took the man's other arm. All we have to do is lug him into the stall and look it, the clean-up crew will be here at any moment.
Turns out the man is much heavier than he appeared and dragging him took a fair amount of effort, but we did eventually get him into the stall and perched on a toilet. Miranda and I immediately made eye contact and begin the motions of rock, paper, scissors. After my rock be her scissors, she let out a vehement train of curse words before closing and locking the stall door and getting on her hands and knees to crawl on the nasty floor in the rundown bar's bathroom.
"I hate this job" she bitched on her way to the sink to wash her hands. Ya, me too. Unfortunately, it's not an option for me like it is for her. I was born into the mercenary business. From the moment I could walk I have been trained in all aspects of self-defense and any other skills that would benefit me in the practice of killing without getting caught. Miranda on the other hand, is here for the money. Not that I fault her, the murder for hire business is as expensive as it is lucrative, and my family has the market cornered.
My father raised me after the death of my mother. Her cancer came quick and strong, and my father was left to care for a 4-year-old girl who had no place in his empire. So instead of shipping me off to some distant relatives he made me a lethal weapon that would benefit his bottom line. He made me a monster.
"You want to catch a night cap Stassi?" Miranda questioned as we walked out of the bathroom and proceeded out of the back exit of the bar. I seriously contemplated her offer before I declined and parted ways. Miranda took off with no further offers, which isn't surprising since I barely know her other than our brief encounters while working for the company. Lord knows I need a night out after a day like today but what I wanted more than anything was to go home and was the feel of tonight's mark off of me and who I am and what I do and pretend to be a normal nineteen-year-old girl. There it was my forbidden apple in the garden, my want to be normal with normal problems. Da said it would get me killed one day, that I should be grateful for the skill sets I have because it makes me a lion in a world full of sheep's but sometimes, I just want to be a sheep.
I pulled up to my apartment building and handed valet my keys before making my way to the elevator. I had just stepped into it when my phone began to ring, there is only two people who would ever call me, I answered immediately, "Hello Da."
"You did good tonight, not a witness in sight and the clean-up crew was able to get in and get out." He commended. I remained silent; he knows how I feel about doing these jobs for him. Over the last year he has tried to have me work marks that are to subdue for questioning instead of the marks that we were hired to kill but it is a small consolation in the grand scheme of things. Sensing my mood, he continued "I was calling to let you know that your presence is required a The Portofino tomorrow at 7. We will be having dinner with a very important client. Mr. Volkov is looking to outsource some of his more sensitive work. Him and his son Nikolas will both be in attendance. I expect you to be on your best behavior and to put in the effort. Do I make myself clear?" he finished in a threating tone that I knew better than to question.
"Understood Da. Is there anything else I can do for you? I have had a long night and wish to retire." I said with a hint of disdain that I couldn't hide despite my careful training. I knew immediately he would pick up on it and he did.
"Yes, you can watch your tone unless you wish to spend the foreseeable future on the compound." He threatened before ending the call without any form of sentimental goodbye.
The elevator dinged as it hit the top floor and I exited directly into my studio apartment. My sanctuary. The last thing I have left of my mothers. It used to be her art studio or, so I was told but when she died, she left it solely in my name. Wanting to feel closer to her I moved in as soon as I was able to get away from the compound. In a bit of a trance, I walked towards the bathroom were my oversized claw foot tub set and turned it on the highest temperature possible. I Striped out of my attire and stood facing the mirror as the haze that had settled over me with my father's threat of the compound. My dule green eyes stared back at me unfeeling and detached. My upper body was haloed by the thick mane of ice blond hair that fell to my waist. I have my fathers' eyes. But my hair, that was all from my mother and I'll be damned if there ever comes a time where I don't proudly display my hair for the world to see.
I latch on to my connections with my mother as a lifeline in this life much to my father's dismay. He has on numerous occasions attempted to forcibly cut my hair to a 'manageable' length claiming that the unique makes me to recognizable and is bad for business. On all occasions I made his life so miserable that he ceased trying to control that aspect of my life.
Turning from the mirror to avoid further scrutiny of myself I walked to the tub before sticking one leg in, followed by the rest of myself, the pain was a welcome reprieve from the feeling of disgust that settled over me when tonight's mark claimed my body in a way he had no right too. I was fourteen when my Da decided that my body was appealing enough to be used and weaponized. I underwent training that no girl should ever be subjected to. I learned how to please a man in every possible way, I learned how my body was to be used, what I was to say, and how I was to act to successfully seduce men to the point that they drop their guard. It is my least favorite part of this life but over the years I have learned to detach from the moment. It isn't till after when I am left alone with my thoughts and nothing else that the self-loathing and disgust inhabit my mind. Nights like tonight where I sit in scolding hot water for hours hoping to erase all traces of events, I have no say in.
It wasn't till much later that night that I found peace enough to fall asleep and dream of a life I will never have.
YOU ARE READING
His Sheep
RomanceShe was raised to take part of a life that she did not choose. He trapped her in a life she did not want but her wants are called into question because of him. He has known from a young age he was born for a specific purpose. She makes him want f...
