I Never Told You What I Do For A Living

Tuesday 1-2pm

Franks P.O.V

I rubbed at my sleep crusted eyes, waking for the second time that day due to my morning stalking routine. I froze as I felt something shift on my chest, little puffs of stinking breath blowing on my face. As my eyes slowly fluttered open they were immediately confronted by large tuxedo cat mileometers from my face, green eyes watching me intently, ready to pounce at the slightest move. I stretch over to my bedside table being careful to keep my body relatively still, grabbed the spray bottle that was kept specifically for these types of incidents. I turned the bottle around, aiming the nozzle carefully at the black and white cat before spraying, successfully getting rid of the cat but also covering me in a mist of ice cold water. I jerked and turned over, huffed in annoyance, and wiped my face on the pillow case before reaching out and clicking on the kettle. I sprawled out on the bed waiting for the kettle to boil, my mind still foggy with sleep. The door creaked behind me and I sighed in agitation, just wanting to be left to my thoughts as I heard someone step into my room.

“Now that wasn’t very nice. Poor little Butler is all wet.” I looked up to see Mary standing in my doorway; her beloved cat was swaddled up in a towel giving me the evil eyes.
I glared at her as I sat up, knowing the only reason that cat was in my room to begin with was because someone had left the door open and that someone could only be her.

“You came into my room again last night.” I growled. I hated it when people watched me sleep. Not only did it creep me out, my thoughts just don’t stay in my head when I’m dead to the world. She giggled and looked up at me through her dark lashes, appearing even younger than she normally did. It reminded me of the old times when it was just me and her against the world. The annoyance started to drain away, leaving my overwhelming adoration for her. She watched me for a while gauging my reaction to the new information before formulating her answer.

“Well, Bob locks his door at night, so that leaves you.” She pointed out, letting the cat jump out of her arms before skipping over and throwing herself into my arms, simultaneously knocking me back onto the bed. I wrapped my arms tightly around her small form burying my face in the sweet aroma of her hair. I pulled myself into a sitting position with Mary still snuggled into my chest. She looked up at me, but her smile faulted for a second.

“What happened? We use to always talk, but now you act like I just annoy you and you don‘t want me around.” She stated, looking genuinely miserable.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered hugging her a little tighter. “I never meant to make you feel that way.” She nodded slightly, and slid off my lap as the kettle finished boiling, walking to the doorway facing the floor before suddenly pivoting back towards me. She held her wrist awkwardly while she studied the wooden boards looking slightly uneasy, probably feeling vulnerable from letting her barriers down.

“Thank you” She murmured before turning around to leave.

“You don’t have to go. Have a coffee with me.” I said not wanting her to leave, feeling ashamed for letting it get this way.

“Thanks but I still need to feed the cats and do some other stuff.” She gave me a weak smile, glancing at me before she quietly left my room.

I stood up making myself a much needed coffee, trouble by the fact that I could make my little Mary feel so alone and not wanted. Butler strolled back in and made himself comfortable on the black armchair, which triggered my memories of last night’s events. I walked over and shoved the chair over, smiling as I watched the cat topple off and flee the scene.
I knelt down and ripped the carpet back to reveal the non-threatening trapdoor. The door squeaked in protest as I lifted it, and caused the smell of too blood hit me like a wave. My footsteps echoed around the hushed room making Jamia flinch in her unconscious state. I slowly approached the table with one thought on my mind. I hummed to her as I started untying her wrists and ankles, and she woke with a start. She fought me as much as her weak and injured body would allow, before quickly running out of energy and slumping back onto the table. I wandered over to the opposite wall, pushing down three seconds on the bottom shelf and waiting for a slight click as the hidden door in the wall slid open. I shuffled back to the middle of the room, picking Jamia up bridal style since she had once again become unconscious. I ducked into the newly opened space, entering the dank cupboard, slightly disgusted at the oily feeling of Jamia’s melted skin that’s became solid once again.
The lights clicked on showing what looked to be just another ordinary table, but looks could be deceiving. I laid Jamia none too gently on the table, tying her ankles down and then her arms behind her head. I stalked back to the main room and over to a lever on the wall, and yanked it down making the table on which the prone girl was lying start to tip until it was vertical, and the only thing stopping Jamia from falling was the ropes that were cutting into her ankles. I quickly collected a bucket beside the door on the on the way back in, placing it exactly under her hands. I grabbed the pocket knife that I always had on my person, slicing deeply into her wrists. I watched as the crimson liquid drip down her hands, staining the delicate skin and pool into the bucket.

I left the unconscious Jamia to bleed out as I ventured back into the main part of the house, my stomach having started a small symphony inside me. I headed straight to the kitchen, the smell of cooking luring me in. I found Bob and a very unimpressed Mary bickering, as per usual. To pairs of eyes shot to me as I entered the room, ready to drag me to one side or the other of whatever ridiculous argument they were having.

“Bob doesn’t-” Mary started quickly being cut off by my lack of caring.

“I don‘t want to hear it.” I snapped brusquely, while collecting a bag of skittles and a large bottle of creaming soda, deciding the meal wasn’t worth it and not wanting to be here when World War 3 broke out.

“But-”

“No.” Having claimed the word last I left the vicinity of the kitchen, making my way to my safe haven once again.

I shoved a handful of skittles in my mouth, completely and utterly addicted to any form of sugar. I dropped my goodies on the bed, changing from my PJ’s and slipped on some relatively clean jeans and a slightly oversized band shirt, putting on the first pair of shoes that came into view. I collapsed on my soft bed, attempting to drain a litre of soda while lying on my back. I failed dismally and poured a good amount of the bottle’s contents onto my face just as the sound of shattering glass made me jolt in alarm. The shattering of glass was replaced with a torrent of obscenities before a pair of feet came thumping down to my room at full speed. Mary entered the room as I started cleaning off my face and bed with stray tissues.

“What the hell was that?” I questioned slightly worried about what was now no longer in one piece.

“Bob chucked a glass at my head because apparently he would ‘prefer to spend the night swimming around in a pool full of rotting corpses then give the cats one of his shirts.” She exclaimed, making quotation marks with her fingers, a look of disgust corrupting her innocent face.

“Well what did you think would happen? You know how much Bob hates those cats.” I huffed, half annoyed, half amused.
Mary ignored my last statement as she took in my appearance, a frown on her face and her hands on her hips. “Where are you going?” she demanded. I quickly tried to formulate a lie.

“Um, I’m heading to, ah, the comic book store.” I invented my voice sounding slightly flustered. She looked at me accusingly, seeing straight through my lie but for some reason decided to ignore it. She pivoted and left the room with nothing but a small smile telling me she was up to something. I brushed it off; she was probably just going to put bleach in my shampoo or something just as immature, as long as she doesn’t find out the truth. I swept up the skittle packet and keys, jogging to the kitchen, the sugar giving me a slight head rush. Bob came into view and muttered to himself as he reluctantly cleaned up the glass fragments, deciding to ignore me as I did a flying leap over him. I landed with a giant thump on a random table which I could have sworn wasn’t there before. I rolled off the now rickety table, barely slowing as I ran to my car. I quickly jumped slamming the keys in the ignition and accelerating dangerously fast down the drive way, a cloud of dust engulfed the house as I sped away.

(Time lapse)

I lounged in the front seat of my black Jeep, a few houses up from my latest obsession’s place of residents. I’ve been observing him for two weeks now.
Ever since work had dried up for me I’ve been lost as to how to use my spare time. Apparently people aren’t getting as pissed off at each other recently, leaving part-time assassins with barely any work. I can only hang out with Bob so much of the day. Naturally I spent most of my days drifting in and out of Starbucks. That’s when I first laid eyes on him.

Every feature lay perfectly on his pale skin, his raven hair effortlessly framing his face, and his body! My disbelieving eyes never left him as he ordered his coffee and silently made his way out of the shop, me hot on his heels. I watch him slink down the side of a rather average red brick house and out of sight. Ever since that day I’ve been watching his every move.
I have his routine mapped out. Every morning he leaves for school at 8:40am with his younger brother and arrives at 8:55, just enough time to collect his books and get to class. After school finishes he takes ten minutes to come out of the building always leaving from the back gate, often without the companionship of his brother. His brother was the same height as him but with blond hair and thick rimmed glasses, thin legs and arms giving him the slight resemblance of a foal. His brother was the only other person from what I could see that gave him any of their time. Besides his mother who showed him enough attention to make up for his lack of friends. He walked with his head to the ground a cloud of loneliness and grief surrounding him. Images of his heart-rending face floated through my mind making my heartache. How could someone as beautiful as him be so upset? Me and Mary’s conversation from this morning drifted into my thoughts. I shouldn’t be so hard on her. I’m surprised she’s got this far with having a mother.

My thoughts were interrupted by a high pitch giggle that came from the back seat, making me jump and let out a rather unmanly squeal. I twist around in alarm, only to lock eyes with Mary. She sat on her knees, peeking out at me from behind the headrest. We stared at each other for an uncomfortably long time, Mary waiting for me to yell at her while I stay quiet, already feeling bad for lying to her. She broke the silence that had engulfed the car.

“So, this is what you do with your day.” She stated, raising her eyebrows in query.

“Why are you here?” I half growled, realising the danger my new interest was in. I narrowed my eyes as she flashed me a cheeky smile.

“Oh, don’t be upset with me. I just wanted some family time.” She pouted at me, her big brown eyes filling with tears. I didn’t buy it for a second.

“Why are you really here?” I questioned, unsure of her intentions. Her hot and cold mood swings messed with my head.

“Why do you think? You’ve been disappearing almost every morning and not coming home till dark. I want to know what’s so important!” she demanded, curiosity in her eyes.

“It’s nothing that concerns you.” I said turning back in my seat, my heart going a million miles a minute as I awaited her response.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to tell me your little secret. You won’t be able to hide it from me for long.” I bristled at the statement, it’s one I’d heard multiple times and it almost always ended extremely badly.

I feel her lips briefly press against my cheek before she exited the car, her black bubble skirt and high ponytail bounced along with her as she skipped down the alley way and out of view.
I glance at my watch, all thoughts of Mary vanishing from my mind as I realised the time, 4:12, he should be here any minute. My eyes scan over the black sketch book lying in the seat next to me. I stole it from his bag, that’s what happens when you leave it outside unattended. His Mum called him back inside, and he left his bag out the front so, naturally I swooped in to investigate. I found his sketch book which conveniently had his address in it and promptly took it, seeing it as a great chance to get to know him better.

I place the untidy book on my lap and opened it to my favourite drawing. Each page was magnificent but this one was by far the best. It was him under a large willow tree talking to a translucent petite girl around the age of 12. She was smiling sadly up at him as tears made their way down his face. The drawing had an overwhelming sense of melancholy. The next page showed the ghostly girl slipping in to the tree leaving him alone in the darkness.
I tore my eyes away from the heart breaking picture to look in the rear view mirror and sighing loudly. Where is he? He’s half an hour late. Just as that thought entered my head he turned onto the street. I straightened in my seat to get the best view, silently watching him make his way down the street. He had his backpack slung lazily over one shoulder, his eyes to the ground while his black hair covered his face.

He passed his house without a glance and turns into a cobblestone alley, quickening his pace. I slipped out of the car quietly, stalking him down the alley like he was prey, being careful to not let him see me. He led me to a secluded part of the river, no footpaths or other people to get in our way. I didn’t want to be seen so I crouched behind a bush. He sat with his back to a tree and his knees tucked up to his chest. I watched closely as his hazel eyes scanned the bank of the river, finally resting on a Willow tree before falling closed.
I studied him and his flawless beauty. How his hair framed his face so perfectly, his pink lips a stark contrast to his pale skin and how his dark lashes fell on his cheeks. I focused on how his shiny Doc Martins dug into the dirt and the way his arms wrapped around his black skin-tight jean clad legs.

He shifted and tucked his hair behind his ear, exposing a large bruise and trickle of blood. A gasp escaped his lips as his fingers brushed the bruise that covered part of his jaw.

Notes

The day after I wrote this, my friends tuxedo cat died. I'm cursed! (Sinful Rose)
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