Untitled
By Laura Hou
She remembered, remembered when the warm blood spilled on her hands. When she felt the
presence of life leave the shell at her feet.
She remembered the cries for mercy, the gasp of pain, and the whisper of the last breath on
their lips. Remembered the cold, the cruelty and death.
The first kill was always the hardest, they say.
No, not true. The last kill was.
The last kill was when she knew that this was the last time she would take a life, and that every
life before that was her debt to pay, whether she owed it or not. Everything came tumbling back, ghosts
asking for retribution. She could almost hear the anguish again. Relive every life of her victim, see the
world one last time in their eyes, and feel the blood leak from their bodies.
All the emotions, whether pain, relief or hate was inside her all at once.
She remembered she used to love.
It was one of those winter nights where the sun set early, disappearing beneath the horizon
taking the last of its warmth with it, leaving the land shivering with the cold.
She watched as the last of the golden light slid beneath the horizon. Jest turned and smiled at
her. She smiled back.
He reached for her hand and she laughed as he twirled her upon the dance floor. As night shifted
into dawn, their heartbeat matched the steps they took together. They danced and danced. Danced until
all the others left and danced till the first beams of sunlight pierced through the clouds and gilded the
walls of the ballroom with golden light.
It was her last night with him, it was the last time she heard him laugh and her last time feeling
his presence. He died that night, killed by accident.
Collateral damage.
A small drop landed on the back of her hand. She moved her finger over it.
Wet…
Another drop fell. Followed by another. Mixed with the blood on the back of her hand.
She brought her hand to her face and it came away wet.
She was crying. She thought that she was strong like Jest was.
But she’s not.
“I’ll come home, I promise,” Was the last thing he ever said to her. Those were the words that
she will remember for a long time to come. The only promise he had ever broken.
“I’ll come home.”
Her dagger clattered to the ground. The sound jolted her awake. This was her last kill. Each and
every one of the monsters who had done her Jest harm was dead.
And as she finally looked up to the skies, a shell of what she once was, she realized that she did
not succeed, for she still felt nothing but hate, nothing but burning hate in her heart. Hate for all
humans, for the selfishness and cruelty.
She wanted to kill.
The assassin remembered.
She remembered, remembered when the warm blood spilled on her hands. When she felt the
presence of life leave the shell at her feet.
She remembered the cries for mercy, the gasp of pain, and the whisper of the last breath on
their lips. Remembered the cold, the cruelty and death.
The first kill was always the hardest, they say.
No, not true. The last kill was.
The last kill was when she knew that this was the last time she would take a life, and that every
life before that was her debt to pay, whether she owed it or not. Everything came tumbling back, ghosts
asking for retribution. She could almost hear the anguish again. Relive every life of her victim, see the
world one last time in their eyes, and feel the blood leak from their bodies.
All the emotions, whether pain, relief or hate was inside her all at once.
She remembered she used to love.
It was one of those winter nights where the sun set early, disappearing beneath the horizon
taking the last of its warmth with it, leaving the land shivering with the cold.
She watched as the last of the golden light slid beneath the horizon. Jest turned and smiled at
her. She smiled back.
He reached for her hand and she laughed as he twirled her upon the dance floor. As night shifted
into dawn, their heartbeat matched the steps they took together. They danced and danced. Danced until
all the others left and danced till the first beams of sunlight pierced through the clouds and gilded the
walls of the ballroom with golden light.
It was her last night with him, it was the last time she heard him laugh and her last time feeling
his presence. He died that night, killed by accident.
Collateral damage.
A small drop landed on the back of her hand. She moved her finger over it.
Wet…
Another drop fell. Followed by another. Mixed with the blood on the back of her hand.
She brought her hand to her face and it came away wet.
She was crying. She thought that she was strong like Jest was.
But she’s not.
“I’ll come home, I promise,” Was the last thing he ever said to her. Those were the words that
she will remember for a long time to come. The only promise he had ever broken.
“I’ll come home.”
Her dagger clattered to the ground. The sound jolted her awake. This was her last kill. Each and
every one of the monsters who had done her Jest harm was dead.
And as she finally looked up to the skies, a shell of what she once was, she realized that she did
not succeed, for she still felt nothing but hate, nothing but burning hate in her heart. Hate for all
humans, for the selfishness and cruelty.
She wanted to kill.
The assassin remembered.