4- First Mistake

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I woke up disgustingly early in the morning to get ready for my day. I didn't bother with a shower, as I knew by the end of the day I'd be covered with sweat, blood, or both.

With a sigh I slid my shoes on and headed out to the car-port to meet up with my guard for the day. Anytime any of us get sent out, one of the people who willingly work here has to go with us to make sure we cooperate and do what was demanded of us.

Thankfully, today I was paired with Ronnie. He doesn't say much and he doesn't shove me around. He just follows along and throws in his input every now and then. He's actually the one who helped me learn the ropes of everything around here. He nodded to a black sedan and started walking over toward it, me trailing quietly behind him.

We didn't talk on the drive over and just let Ronnie's rap music fill the silence. After half an hour, we reached the house. I got out of the car and went around to the trunk of the car, pulling out anything I would need. I pulled out a couple pistols, shoving one in the waistband of my jeans and the other in my jacket pocket. I shut the trunk and looked over at Ronnie.

"You good?" he asked.

I nodded.

"Then lead the way."

I walked around to the back of the house and found the back door. I jiggled the door handle, unsurprised to find it locked. I pulled my lock picking kit out and made fast work of the two locks.

"I think that's a new record for you," Ronnie commented as I slid the kit back into my pocket. I opened the door and it led right into the kitchen. I noticed a set of knives sitting out on the counter top, so I grabbed the biggest one and continued forwards.

I heard Ronnie let out a slight chuckle at my actions, but I ignored him. Having to be in this guy's home already set me on edge; I wanted any advantage I could get. I heard a TV playing in the next room over, so that's where I headed, keeping the knife slightly behind me.

I looked around the corner I saw my target sitting on a worn out couch with his back facing me, angrily talking to someone on his phone. I came up behind him and pressed the knife up to his throat. He paused in mid sentence and I heard his breath hitch. I leaned down and whispered,

"Hang up now. Say a single word and things will go much, much worse for you." Wordlessly he hung up the phone and set it down. I walked around to the front of him, making sure the knife was pointed in his direction at all times.

"Who are you? What do you want?" he questioned.

"I work for Andy Biersack." Instantly the man's face paled and his jaw dropped open. He began to try to stutter out words, but I cut him off.

"Don't give me your excuses; I've heard them all at this point. Basically you haven't been holding up your end of the deals and Andy has given you plenty of chances. It's time to either pay up or get killed. Your choice man." I said. He continued to stutter but couldn't seem to get a single word out.

"Listen, do you have the money or not?" I asked.

"I-I-I, uh, how m-much do I o-o-owe?" He finally got out.

"Eighty grand," I replied. His eyes grew so wide I thought they were about to fall out of his head.

"I-I-I-I don't have th-th-that," he said desperately. "Please, just g-give me a b-b-bit longer,"

I cut him off there.

"Andy has already given you an extension three times. Three strikes and you're out bud." I dropped the knife onto the ground, making sure it stayed out of the man's reach, and pulled the gun out of my pocket, cocked it, and aimed it at his head. Looking away, I took a deep breath, and pulled the trigger.

The shot echoed around the house, I felt some blood splatter back onto my face, and I heard the thump of the man's lifeless body falling to the ground. Looking down, I saw his blood starting to pool at my feet. I took a few steps back as Ronnie stepped forward and started to bag up the body before it made too much of a mess.

I thought that was it. I thought I was done and all I had to do was clean up the blood after Ronnie bagged the body and then we could leave. But no. I heard the sound of footsteps coming down the stairs.

Small footsteps.

I whirled around and moved to the bottom of the stairs and froze in horror at what I saw. A little boy, around the age of seven or eight.

"Who are you? Where's my daddy?" he questioned. I couldn't answer him; my breath was stuck in my throat.

Andy has a policy, no witnesses. No one around. If they were at the scene, they had to be killed. Period. Ronnie walked up behind me and nudged me in the back.

"What are you waiting for? You know what you gotta do." I turned around and looked at him desperately.

"He's...he's just a kid Ronnie. I can't kill him...he's a kid." Ronnie's face held no emotion.

"You have to do it. Just get it over with." My hand that was still holding onto the gun began shaking uncontrollably.

"Who are you?" the kid questioned again, the smallness and innocence of his voice making me want to cry.

"I can't...I...I can't!" I cried out as I dropped to the floor. I gripped my hair tightly and tugged at it. I heard Ronnie let out a sigh as he took the gun from my hand.

"No, no, no, no, no!" I cried out, but I knew there was no point. I heard the shot. I heard the small thump. I stayed curled on the floor, crying and shaking a bit as I listened to the sounds of Ronnie bagging up the small boy.

"I'm taking these out to the car. Clean up so we can go."

I heard the door slam shut. I took a deep breath and stood from the floor. Going into the kitchen I found what I needed to clean up and started in the living room where the man was. That didn't bother me much; I had done that plenty of times before.

However, when I got to the small patch of blood on the stairs, I cried the whole time I cleaned it up. By the time I was done, my hands were stained a pale shades of pink and red, and the blood that had splattered onto my face had dried.

Numbly, I walked out to the care where Ronnie was waiting. I climbed into the passenger seat and Ronnie began driving back to the compound.

"You do realize I have to tell Andy about what happened." Ronnie said. Instantly the numbness and depression I was feeling was replaced by sheer panic and terror.

"No, no please! He'll hurt Dallon, please! Nobody got away, and even if that kid did it wouldn't have been that big of a deal!"

"Sorry Brendon, you're one of my favorites around here but rules are rules. If Andy finds out what happened and I didn't tell him, it'd be both our asses."

I zoned out as Ronnie made a phone call to plan ahead for disposing of the two bodies currently in the trunk of our car. When we got back, we both climbed out of the car and I went straight to my room while Ronnie went to Andy's office.

I knew what was coming.

My room was close to the room used for torture. I could hear the screams of people when they were being interrogated or other people being punished for what a worker had done.

This time, the screams would belong to my Dallon and there would be nothing I could do about it.

It was all my fault in the first place.

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