Once a Killer

Prologue

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The clock reads 3 AM.

You're seated at the dinner table in your small apartment, fingers drumming on the wooden surface. You feel more awake than you've ever been, simply staring at the locked screen of your phone. Your apartment is silent now that all the neighbours seem to have gone to sleep, only the voices of some drunks outside your window echoing through your home.

A backpack and a suitcase are resting at your feet. They're filled with only the bare essentials, the things you couldn't leave behind, though your apartment is still full of the things that wouldn't fit. Old clothes still hang in your wardrobe, your living room is still filled with knickknacks you've collected over the years, and your bookshelves are still lined with the novels you'll have to leave behind.

Your phone buzzes and you jump up, chair loudly scraping over the floor. Your heart starts to pound as soon as you read the notification – I'm here. For a moment, you freeze up, your muscles too tense to really move anywhere, and doubt starts to take over.

But you take a breath and push on. You swipe your gun off of the table, hide it underneath your clothes, swing your backpack over your shoulder, and grab your suitcase. Slowly letting out another breath, you carefully place your chair back where it was, hands clammy. One last look at your apartment only makes your heart beat faster, realising that this is the last time you'll see it – if everything goes according to plan.

A moment later, you avert your eyes and walk towards the door, stepping out into the hallway.

You lock it behind you just for show, slipping the keys into your pocket even though you won't be needing them anymore. Your eyes flicker to the door next to yours, the dull silver numbers reading 309 somehow too bright for your eyes. Would he be asleep in there? What will he do when he discovers you're gone? Would he –

You shake your head, stopping yourself before you spiral. You turn around to face the dark hallway in front of you, the floorboards creaking with every step you take. A single ever-flickering light bulb hangs from the ceiling and the usual stench of old cigarettes hangs in the air, the one you've gotten so used to that you don't even flinch anymore.

Attempting to keep yourself from looking over your shoulder once more, you pick up your suitcase in your arms and start to tiptoe towards the stairs at the end of the hallway, trying not to huff all too loudly as the weight of your luggage starts to make your muscles burn. The stairs only give you a harder time and it takes up almost all your effort not to thunder down the steps as fast as you can – especially because you constantly feel two pairs of eyes pricking in your back. A glance up the stairs doesn't help, the emptiness up there only conjuring up an eerie sense of nerves.

Out of breath, you finally set foot on the ground floor, carrying your suitcase through the dark, silent lobby. The light coming in from the street lanterns outside gives you enough to find your way to the double doors, and so you quickly move forward. Just a few more steps – and you're out.

You eagerly breathe in the cool night air – it feels fresher than it usually does, freer than you've so often experienced it, lying on rooftops for hours on end.

The doors fall closed behind you and you jolt out of your thoughts, heart skipping a beat as you drop back into reality – you look over your shoulder at your building, just one last time. Without much thought nor resistance, your eyes drift up to the row of windows on the third floor, your floor – but you've forgotten which apartment is yours, which apartment is his. It's like you've already left.

Taking in another breath, you turn back to face the street, eyes scanning the rows of vehicles parked in front of the building. They soon fall on a small, black car a few steps away, headlights on, the top of someone's head visible through the back window. You quickly pace towards it, still carrying your suitcase in your arms instead of pulling it along, heart starting to beat faster and faster.

The head looks up when you open the trunk and throw in your suitcase – your backpack stays with you, the gun remains safely tucked away underneath your clothes. Jungkook nods at you when his eyes catch yours, and he sets his phone down, putting his hands on the steering wheel.

You close the trunk as silently as you can, though even the soft thud sounds like thunder in your ears as it cuts through the night's silence. With shallow breaths, you walk over to the passenger's seat, opening the door and slipping inside. You jump yet again when you close the door.

"Did anyone see you?"

You shake your head, putting on your seatbelt as Jungkook starts the engine, puts the car into first gear. "Not that I know," you say, your voice low even though no one will be able to hear you from outside. "Let's just get going before we discover I'm wrong," you add, looking aside at him. He's wearing dark sweats and a large, grey hoodie, a black jacket to pair with it, the yellow light from the street lanterns making the colours look off. His dark hair is messy as if he's just woken up, though his wide eyes seem as awake as yours.

"Sounds good," he returns, scanning the environment one last time before he drives off.

As you hear the sound of the engine echo through the streets, you can't help but look over your shoulder, at the apartment building you're leaving behind.

On the third floor, lights flicker on and a shadow moves past a window, the curtains ripple as someone grips them and, presumably, pulls them open to peer outside – but before you can see who it is, before they can see who you are, you're already around the corner.

With a sigh, you sink back into the leather seat, eyes fluttering closed for a moment. The car is as comfortably warm as a car can be and Jungkook has turned on the radio to fill the silence, humming along to the soft ballads while he drives. Your body slowly deflates, and when you open your eyes to look at the road ahead, you can feel your eyelids growing heavy.

You bury your hands in your pockets, slouching in your seat while Jungkook drives out of the city centre, and you feel your fingers run along the rough edges of a collection of keys that are now rendered useless.

The reality of what you're doing, what you've really done, suddenly hits you.

You thought you'd be feeling nothing but happiness once the deed was done, but you can only feel your heart grow heavy – heavy when you realise who that figure behind the curtains must've been, heavy when you realise you never truly got to say goodbye to him. To anyone.

But you know that you'll never get a real goodbye – and so, you'll just have to try to forget it all, leave whatever memories you made in this city behind, all so you can start from scratch elsewhere.

You can only hope it is that easy.

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Thank you so much for reading, I hope you liked this first part!! What are your predictions, or questions you might have? What/who is mc running from? What did you think of the writing? Don't hesitate to let me know your thoughts, I'd love to hear from you :) I hope you have a great day/night wherever you are!!♥♥♥