Take Out Order

Chapter 2 (R)

I walk through the doors of the company. The building is plain, gray, and rectangular, in the middle of a sea of buildings that look just like it. I walk into the elevator and punch the basement button three times, sending the elevator soaring up to the thirteenth floor. The thirteenth floor is usually not used in buildings for stupid superstitious reasons, so it is the perfect place for the company to have their offices.

I entered the floor and was immediately approached by my boss' assistant. Her name is ... Kristen? Chrystal? I could never quite understand her when she told me. Her voice is like a soft breeze, quiet and light. And there's only so many times you can keep asking before it becomes super awkward.

She hands me a letter with the company's address marked in slanted black handwriting on the front of the envelope.

"What's this?" I say, flipping the letter around to look for the return address. There is none.

"Part 2 ...that letter ... last month..." was all I could make out from her whispers. And suddenly I remembered.

A month or so after I moved, I had received a letter through the company. It was about a new assignment from an anonymous source. They wanted me to take out someone who had wronged them. They didn't say how the person wronged them, or who it was. Just that they would get back to me in a few weeks with more information on the person. I even remember that they said to send an apple to their P.O. box if we had received the message, like this was some sort of bad spy movie. But I did it, because I wanted them to know I got it, and that was the only return address they offered. This must be the elaboration letter they were talking about.

"Oh! Thank you." I say to her, giving a polite nod. I walked over to my cubicle and sat down on the squishy black chair.

I tear open the envelope and throw it onto my desk. As I unfold the letter, a picture falls out. Without taking my eyes off of the paper, I peel the picture off of the rough carpet. The address looks very familiar. I flip the picture over and my heart seizes up.

It's Dylan.

No, no, it can't be Dylan. Who would want Dylan dead? She's not important enough to kill! It can't be her.

But it was, right there, in her waitress uniform, balancing like 6 plates on one arm.

Well... shit. Good thing I didn't get too attached, right?

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Thanks for reading my chapter! Who wants Dylan dead? Feel free to ask E and I anything, except what will spoil future plot twists. :)
~ J from JandEwrite