Fair warning, this starts out as a bit dramatic.
April 19, 1999
It was a sunny day when my parents died. The sky was blue, the air was warm. The ideal, Rhode Island day summer day. I was in a pink dress with black Maryjane's and my fawn-ish hair was in two long braids down my back. I was even wearing those ridiculous, frilly socks that my mother loved.
The sun was at it's highest and my parents were in the back yard with my, nursing my newborn brother Joseph. I skipped along my hop scotch with my body guard's son/ playmate, Quinton. Quinton was always my friend, he trained everyday so that he could be my future body guard. I smiled widely at my friend as I scored higher than him.
"Now, Mary," my father called from his chair," You need to play nice with Quinton. His father will have my head otherwise."
I smiled at his comment. My father was the most powerful man in eastern America. Nobody could have his head.
My father was a very handsome, classic man. His hair was always cut short and he had only a bit of a mustache on his upper lip. It was nearly impossible to see him with out a suit on. His appearance was nothing short of impeccable, not a hair out of place and not a speck on his clothes.
My mother was a much more colorful soul, though just as classic. She always wore bright colors, blues, pinks and yellows were her favorites. She liked the dresses that flared out at the bottom a bit most, always pairing them with the locket my father had given her on their first anniversary.
I returned back to my game with Quinton, giving him a bit of leeway in it. We stayed outside longer than my parents, the sun was going down when my father had to come outside and tell us to come in.
"You two have been out here for-"
Suddenly he was cut short. I turned to look at him he had a finger in the air, listening intently to the world around him. After a moment or so, his eyes snapped open and he stared at Quinton and myself.
"Quinton," he said in that calming voice of his," Take Mary to your house. Now."
"Of course," Quinton said. He pulled at my arm, but I jerked it back desperate to know what was going on.
"What's wrong, Papa?"
"Go with Quinton."
I was about to retort when my mother came outside with Joseph in her arms.
"What's wrong, Dear?"
"Go back inside."
"But-"
I heard a cocking sound, my father gulped. He looked worried. Papa never looked worried. Quinton pulled at my arm so hard that I had no choice but to go with him, leaving my family behind.
Then I heard a scream.
I pulled my arm back and ran into our yard, just in time to see a bullet go through my mother's skull. This time I screamed. I shrieked so loud that I'm surprised that I can still talk.
My mother's brain spilled onto the floor in a mess of small chunks and thick, red liquid. When she fell over she took my already dead brother with her. My father was the last to go. He went down to the ground, a perfectly aimed shot at his heart. He suffered a slower death than my mother. The last words on his lips were that of my name-
"Mary..."
Staring at my reflection in the mirror, that memory seems so long ago. Today marks the day, 13 years to the second. The sun was going down outside my window this very moment. I cast it a sideways glance before I finished pulling my hair into a pony tail and putting my gloves on my hands.
Lesson 1: Never leave evidence.
"Quinton," I called," Is the car ready?"
My body guard and personal hitman appeared in the doorway. Solemn as ever with his black t-shirt and leather pants with combat boots. His long black-brown hair pulled into a short bun at the back of his head and a slight stubble on his lower jaw. I let out a groan, I keep telling him to get a haircut!
"It is," he gave me a mock bow, gesturing for me to leave before him," My Queen."
"And they say chivalry is dead," I muttered as I passed. He chuckled in response before following me out.
Once into the jeep, I toss the small revolver back and forth in my hands. Quinton notices my stance and turns on the radio. The pop-ish rock doing it's job to calm my nerves.
"Nervous?"
"No," I reply with out remorse, we've found the man who killed my family and we're going to 'take care' of him," Just deciding whether to use the pistol or the revolver."
"Use the pistol, you're better with those."
"Alright."
The rest of the ride was silent, then we reached the warehouse. I stepped out immediately and jogged into the large building. There he was, my man, sitting in a chair with his hands and legs tied and his mouth gagged. I pulled off my leather jacket and put it over a chair, walking over to him and pulling the gag out carelessly.
"Hello," I smiled at him and sat in the chair opposite him," Do you know who I am?"
He shook his head at my question. Not wanting to give any information, but not wanting to die either. I hate this kind, the two faced ones that would do anything to save their own lives. He had sold out his brother in a vain attempt to keep us at bay.
"I suppose you wouldn't," I straightened his collar a bit," But I remember you. You see, John- Can I call you John? You took something very dear to me."
His eyes widened with apprehension about what I was saying. I snapped my fingers in the air and pulled my eye brows together, feigning trying to remember.
"What was it? What was it? Oh, yeah," I opened my eyes and looked at his with the honest disdain that I felt," My family. You see, John, I've always been a bit greedy."
I leaned over and took my gun from my coat pocket,
"I've never liked any one taking things from me, then again," I put the gun to his chest," I was basically an only child. Since you took my brother."
I pulled the trigger on brother. Not a critical hit, but it would hurt like hell.
"His name was Joseph. Barely two months old, black hair like his father and blue eyes like me."
I turned to look at Quinton, nodding at the door. He gave me a stiff nod before going over and opening the door, dragging out a small girl and two women. John's eyes went wide and he started struggling against his restraints.
"No, no, no, no, no!"
"Yes, yes, yes. You know," I stood up and went to the woman, putting my hands on her shoulders when I stood behind her," You took my family from me, it's only fair that I do the same."
He shook his head, tears beginning to spill over his cheeks.
"Please don't do this," he begged," Please."
"I have to," I thought for a moment then smiled," Actually I don't, I just want to. But, since you asked so nicely, I'll give you a choice."
I walked over to the other woman, wrapping an arm around her shoulder as it we were old friends. I smiled at John.
"I'll only kill two of them," I stepped past the woman so that I stand in front of them all. I turned and gestured to all of them," So which will it be? The wife, the mistress or the daughter?"
He started to sob again, I waited about five minutes before sighing dramatically.
"I don't have all day, you know. This is an important day after all. If you don't chose then I suppose I'll have to."
I turned to Quinton.
"Take the girl back to the car."
He nodded and took the girl away. She was crying and screaming but she went.
"I hope she wasn't one of the ones you chose to kill. Now," I turned to the women again," Which one? Which one? I know."
I went up to the wife and pulled her head back by her hair before placing the gun to the bottom of her jaw.
"I'll start with Nancy," I shrugged," You couldn't have actually loved her much if you cheated on her for twelve years."
I pulled the trigger. Blood sprayed over my face and neck, staining my shirt. Her body dropped limply to the ground as I let go of her hair. Beth, the mistress, covered her mouth and let out a muffled scream as John yelled at me to stop. I hate when they beg, but I love it when they scream.
"Now," I turned back to John, smiling like a madwoman," I'm going to give you a chance to save your beloved Beth. I just need you to tell me one little thing then she'll go unharmed."
He immediately nodded. I smiled at him.
"Good choice, now tell me," I took a step towards him," Who paid you to kill my family?"
He started to shake his head again, I sighed and went back to Beth. I placed the gun to her heart.
"If you don't answer me then I'll pull the trigger. You can watch as your loved one lays on the ground and struggles to catch her last breath, trying to desperately to live as her own body threatens to collapse on her."
"No! I-I'll tell you! Just, please, move away from-m Beth."
I stepped away from her.
"I-It was the Dragons," he struggled to say, the bullet I put in his chest earlier was starting to take full effect," T-The Dragons-s sent m-me."
"See, was that so hard," I said. I smiled at him," Now say good bye."
"What?"
"What an odd way to spend your last words," I said. I pulled my gun up quickly and pulled the trigger, hitting him straight in the head. Like my mother. I turned to Beth, who was shaking uncontrollably.
"Let this be a lesson to you, Beth," I told her," Don't get involved with a married man."
"I-I-"
"I'm giving you a second chance. I killed that girl, Katie's, parents. She's an orphan with no one now, take her and leave. Go somewhere far away and start a new life away from this, change your names and never tell anyone who you are."
Her eyes widened at my merciful tone. She ran out of the building. I followed slowly behind her, when I got outside I saw her and Katie hugging as they both cried. I stood there watching them with a curious expression. Quinton came over to me.
"You were oddly nice tonight."
"That girl didn't ask for any of this, I wasn't about to put her into the same position I was in. As for the woman, she just talked to the wrong guy in the bar. With out a little advice the Dragons would have caught them in a day, " I sighed," I guess this is the part where I'm supposed to feel sorrow, guilty over what I've done."
"But you don't?"
"No," I shook my head. I honestly don't," I just want a drink."
He chuckled at my response," Happy birthday, Mary."
I watched them a moment longer.
"Happy birthday to me."
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