1Know that saying how cats have nine lives? Well, I have thousands. No, I wasn't living forever. Actually I wouldn't consider it a life at all, just one death after another.
He handed each of us a small rectangular card that was hard and laminated. Black bolded letters and our pictures placed on the top right corners said it all. It was one more beginning but my storybook would never end.
"Memorize it as well," he told us, and then left us to ourselves which I was glad for. I hated him.
I glanced at the license he had given my partner. "So Evan Lex," I read, "I guess we don't have the same last name yet again."
"Your right Heaven; we don't." Heaven wasn't the name on my id. It's what him, and only him could call me. Why my younger brother refers to me as heaven? Maybe it's because we're living in hell.
xoxoxo
This wasn't the first time we were living in a mansion. Luther, the demon who imprisoned us, is very rich. He's a mob boss and we are his collectors.
I didn't want to wait outside any longer. The wooden steps creaked as the ice beneath my boots cracked. My brothers already kicked open the back door so I just walked straight inside. A bullet flew over my shoulder and smashed one of the kitchen windows.
"We had a deal!" Esme was shouting. Esme was another former client. She was one of the four we had to assassinate this week.
The tip of her shotgun was pointing out from the wall she was hiding behind. Clicking the trigger, another bullet was aimed towards me. I ducked behind the counter before it could hit me. Esme and I shot until our guns were empty, then she decided to run. Her hands grasping a golden knob, a door to the laundry room opened as canine yowling became louder.
"Sick'em boy!"
I was about to go up against a one hundred pound pitpul but before it got the chance to attack me it got double shots to the head. Barking suddenly turned into whimpering as a pool of foam mixed with blood formed on the kitchen floor.
"LADYBIRD!"
Another screech. Jeeze this old woman was giving me a headache.
I never paid much attention to the details of my job. It was Daniel who noticed all that mascara running down the sides of her face looked like a black paint job of a Halloween mask. It was Daniel who saw the tattoo of Ladybird move up and down on Esme's flabby arm as she shook; thinking today was her last day on Earth.
"I'm commin' momma!" That was Jerry. He knocked down the round table as he rushed into the room. My brother ran after him. Jerry picked up a chain and hit him in the back. Daniel only turned his head slightly. Looking annoyed, Daniel fought Jerry down to the floor and cut his left arm off.
Screams of torture filled my ears like a symphony. Esme finally had the courage but stupidity to stand up again as she attacked Daniel from behind. She repeatedly punched him and pulled his hair.
"Get her off me Alexis," he said using the name on my license; and I did. I yanked her off of him, and then killed her. Now it was Jerry's time.
Daniel took the knife he used to cut the arm off, then sliced his neck until Jerry's body became headless. Once they were both dead he took a digital camera out of his pocket and took pictures of everything Luther would die for; not that Luther can die. It's just another saying.
xoxoxo
Luther told us another job well done, yet again. Encouragement and praise came now that he didn't have to worry about us trying to become free. I was smart enough to know it would never happen... Ever since I met Luther nothing stayed the same. Who I was when I was alive is gone now. I can't remember much about her but I figured she could've never been this sick and twisted.
The mattress squeaked as the bed post knocked on the wall. The sheets were above us like a fort and the dark room was similar to that of a blanket. If there was love; this would be it, but there's no love. This was medicine we injected ourselves with. This was our high.
I needed Daniel and it seemed that he needed me, so much he wasn't able to say more than my name.
"Heaven," he muttered.
A long time ago when I was first resurrected I wrote about that place. It was warm and beautiful. We were always cold except for when we fucked and the only thing beautiful in my world was my seventeen year old brother.
I let my lips attach to his as my hands played with his soft blonde hair. Even through the darkness I could find every freckle on his face. I kissed his hot cheek as his breathing became panted. Warmth, it felt like being reacquainted with that place once more. Gasping, I squeezed his shoulders, bringing him closer, and then I felt like crying for some reason until Daniel held onto my hips and came.
xoxoxo
The next morning I found out there was a reason to cry. The second assassination would take place today, and I wouldn't have guessed who I would have to kill.
Luther slid her file down to me. It glided across the polished surface until I stopped it beneath my knuckles. Opening the vanilla folder with one hand, I used the other to pick up my glass of red wine. I took a sip; swallowing it while I skimmed through the printed pages with my fingertips. I froze, glaring at the first page.
Name: Rebecca Moss
Age: 23
And there was a picture. Moss... Moss? I remembered that name and I remembered that face, but I couldn't remember where I knew her from. It was hurting me all over again as the glass felt like it was getting heavier and heavier until I let my hand release it.
For a few moments I felt paralyzed.
"April, clean up the broken glass," Luther called to one of the maids. Soon enough a blonde girl wearing black and white ruffles came in to clean up my mess. I apologized to her absent mindedly while excusing myself from breakfast.
xoxoxo
Once I got to my room I immediately started looking for my books. I checked each drawer, every shelf in my closet, and underneath each surface but I still couldn't find my memoirs. A knock came to my door as I got up off my bed to open it.
"Here," said Daniel, giving me one of my journals. "I think this is the one."
I rubbed my hand over the brown cover made of thick leather. Untying the black string from its edges, I bounced backwards onto my mattress and started scanning from the first page.
"C'mon," I gestured for him to join me. It always felt better with Daniel by my side.
We read silently all throughout dinner. I closed my book and without tying it back up, abandoned the journal on the corner of my bedspread.
"So it's not bad enough that I killed her, huh- now I have to kill her great-grand daughter?" Part of me wanted to yell that. Part of me wanted to throw that damn book instead of setting it to the side. It's like I couldn't express anger anymore due to time.
I couldn't talk back to Luther in the part three hundred years. I was unable to cry for the past two hundred. For the first century I thought of Daniel as only my brother. After the first attempt of killing myself it was also my last as I learned I wasn't the only one who would suffer from my actions. I gave up hope, wouldn't you? I had to remember though, so that's why I documented everything. It was for our eyes only and maybe when I die I'll consider letting it go public.