13. Killer

Mikel – dead. Holden – dead. Diego – dead. Corey . . . soon to be dead.

It took a week of daily visits for him to even start to really look at me. Really, he was seeing me twice a day since he didn't recognize me when my face was covered with a hood. A slight change in voice, and to him I was just another junkie looking for a fix. Now, I was on the way for one last meeting.

He had asked me if I was looking to make more money. Of course I was. Junkies always wanted a quick buck to make sure they never missed a hit. Corey had suggested I meet his "business partner". I agreed. I didn't want to. I didn't like the idea of having to take down two of these fucks at one time. But if I grabbed Corey before we made the meeting, I might just have a chance. Then again, it had been a real debate. If I met the partner – which I was guessing was one of the other fucks on my hit list – then I would have an in when it came to getting the next one.

The sun has already gone down when I approach Corey just outside the deli. He gives me a nod and gestures for me to follow him. We go to a beat up pickup truck and I slide into the passenger seat. It is easy to act like I am tripping. My nerves are making my fingers shake and it is hard to sit still.

"Chill out," he snaps. "Ain't you ever had a fucking job before?"

"Yeah," I answer. "Work all the time."

"Well, if my partner likes you, I can guarantee easy money."

"Sweet."

We are quiet as we drive into a run down neighborhood. There are still some people milling about. I tuck my hood further on my head and slide down in my seat to make sure they can't see my face. Too many people. And I don't know how many are going to be around when I suddenly need a quick exit

I scrub my skin with bleach. The fumes mixed with the steam from the shower make it hard to breathe.I can't feel clean. I can feel the disgust oozing out my pores. A wash rag doesn't scrub well enough. Neither does the neglected poof hanging from the shower knob. I dig beneath my sink for anything else and produce a forgotten loofa sponge. It is rough enough to make my fucked up brain think I am actually doing something when it comes to wiping off the blood and germs from my body.

I went too far. I was too determined to get at Corey that I dropped my own fucking principles in this matter. I felt like I was doing that more and more lately. The end was so close. I couldn't fuck this up now!

I stay in the shower until I have rubbed my skin raw. The water is cold. The fumes are thick enough that I can barely breathe. When I step out, I wrap a towel around my shoulders and walk into the living room. My computer dings as I am digging through a basket of clothes for something to wear. My head snaps in the direction of the device. The fuck? I haven't been talking to anyone since Holden. I wasn't able to dig up any of his mates online which was why I had to go to the streets and defile myself for the sake of cutting that fucker's dick from his body.

Instead of shoving it down his throat or tossing it to the side, I had gotten a bit more creative. The other guys had been easy to snag. They had been easy to kill. Corey took it too fucking far. Then again, he reminded me exactly why I was doing this. Four down. Three to go.

I pull on a worn t-shirt and walk toward the computer. Tapping the keyboard, the screen turns on and I see the blinking green light at the bottom of my screen telling me I have a new message.

Opening the app, my eyes widen and I feel my stomach curdle when I see the message is coming from Holden's thread.

HEY, KITTY KAT.