Assassin's Secret

Chapter 3: ...Almost got hit by a car, too.

I parked my car a street away from my house. My family had no idea that I owned a car… or guns, or that I had enough money to buy my way into Harvard 30 times over: Being an assassin paid well.

I had about 5 minutes to get to my house without rising suspicion! Luckily, I had my own set of pajamas stashed into a duffel bag that I left in the car before the mission. (It’s risky walking around the neighborhood in a ski mask and black clothing!). I quickly changed, locked my car and ran across the street where the moon hit less. As I ran, I checked my watch: 6:32! I had to at least get inside the house before my dad walked out the front door to get his newspaper.

There it was, just up ahead. No dad in sight, I was in luck! I skirted the driveway as quick as I could and finally I was right in front of the door. I stopped and collected my breath before reaching for the doorknob… except it wasn’t there anymore. Shoot. With all the exhausted breathing I was doing I didn’t hear my dad opening the door.

He was startled, but quickly masked it with concern, “Annie? What are you doing outside? Were you sleepwalking again?” His concern made me want to cry. I didn’t deserve it, especially since I was about to lie to him, again.

“Yea,” Ok, that’s good enough, “I found myself halfway down the road,” ok, stop, “almost got a hit by a car, too,” seriously? “I was s-so scared” I stuttered for good effect. I shut my mouth before I gave him more worry lines than he needed. Ever since becoming an assassin I had become a master of story lies. I wouldn’t say I was a compulsive liar, and only because I didn’t always lie, compulsively at least.

“Oh honey, come inside before you freeze," He put his arm around my shoulder and walked me in as if I was a frail child. He walked towards the kitchen where I could already smell the bacon and pancakes my mother was already making. They are the most stereotypical parents I have ever known.

“Annie, my goodness! Where did you come from?” My mom shrieked. She set the plate of pancakes down with a clatter and rushed over to me. I kept my mouth shut, lest I spout some more lies. I knew my dad was going to explain to her any minute now anyway.

“Let’s let her relax for awhile. She’s had an eventful night, to say the least,” My father said. My heart hammered in my chest for a second. He couldn’t possibly know… “She was sleepwalking and was almost hit by a car.”

Oh yeah..

I looked up at my mother who towered over me a good 5 inches. And that was a lot, considering I was 5’6’’. She looked down in shock and I swear I could see her eyes tearing up before I looked away quickly. I shouldn’t be doing this to my parents, but what choice did I have? I couldn’t really tell them the truth, it would destroy them knowing their only daughter was risking her life almost every night!

Fortunately (and unfortunately), I wasn’t the only child. At that moment my older and younger brothers came bounding into the kitchen.

“Now what happened,” Alex, my younger brother of 17, asked. Out of everyone in the family, he was the most annoying. And he knew exactly how to ruin my morning… nevermind that $15,000 was just deposited into my bank account early this morning.

“None of your business,” I bit back.

“Shut your piehole. I wasn’t talking to you. I was talking to John,” Was his snarky reply. I looked over at John. What I saw was not a surprise to me. His eyes were once again bloodshot and puffy, as if he was crying all night. I'm all for older guys expressing their feelings... but he makes it a habit. This, undoubtedly, had something to do with his on/off relationship with a twit called ‘Jessica.’ I can’t stand her. She doesn’t care about John, everyone can see that, but everyone has told him so, and he just won’t listen. And now here he was, walking like a zombie towards the dirty dishes in the sink…picking up a dirty bowl. What in tarnation.