The Hitman's Last Job
Max Freedom
CHAPTER 1
Anna mumbled
in her sleep, words she’d said a thousand times before. She was
having a dream…THAT dream, all over again, like she’d had almost
every night of her life. She always stayed 9 years old in her
nightmares. Maybe because at that age everything changed forever or maybe it was because deep down she still was that 9 year old girl.
She flayed her arms as if fighting an invisible attacker and tears squeezed out from her clenched eyelids.
“No! I don’t wanna!” she cried as if protesting would stop it happening.
It was the day after her ninth birthday when she noticed the look in her father’s eyes change. He lingered on her for just that second longer and the intention on his face was something she had never seen before. Was it love? Hunger? She’d soon find out.
She’d gone to
bed like she always and climbed beneath the covers with her
favorite stuffed toy, an owl named Archimedes who she often spoke to as if he was her best friend. She rubbed her face against his
soft, fake feathers and felt the blissful relaxation that only came in the twilight seconds of sleep taking hold. But something snapped her from the comfort… the creak of her bedroom door.
“Daddy?”
“Be quiet sweety,”
“Why? Is there something wrong?”
“Just be quiet,” he grunted.
He smelled
terrible but that was no surprise. Anna had left her father in a
drunken stupor on the couch with an old Western playing loudly on the TV. He was filthy and sour and as Anna wondered whether she
should lean over and kiss him goodnight, she looked to his
corpulent body and found him repulsive.
His
disgruntled face was crumpled into folds of gray skin with a five o’clock shadow peppering his chin. His hands looked as if they’d
seen a fight that day and the stains on his clothes showed
themselves as a map of his daily habits. Anna hurried up the stairs and hoped that in the morning he’d be in a good mood.
But here he
was in the middle of the night standing in her bedroom, swaying
like he always did when he was drunk and wanted to start an
argument. Then he moved in closer and for a moment, Anna thought he was going to pounce onto the bed like a wild animal. She was almost right. He lingered for a moment by the side of the bed… just
watching. Anna could see sweat begin to form on his brow.
“Are you sick Daddy?” she tried to reason why he looked so strange.
“Just sick of not having you,” was his peculiar reply that she didn’t understand.
He pulled back the bedsheets. Anna shifted herself away quickly but soon found she was trapped in the corner, with her father blocking any escape. Her eyes were wide in fear and confusion. She clutched at Archimedes in a futile attempt at gaining protection. Used to being afraid of her father, she sensed this was different. There was an insidious look in his dark eyes.
He grabbed at
the stuffed owl and tried to pull it from Anna’s arms but she held on as desperately. A struggle broke out and soon the pair was
fighting over the toy. Fake fur and cotton stuffing flew out over the bed like a scattering of artificial snow. Her father won the
battle quickly and tossed the artificial owl carcass on the floor.
Anna looked to it with tears clinging at her eyelashes.
But a sharp
pain in her wrist made her turn back to her father. He was gripping her arm hard and pushing her down underneath him. He was sitting
astride her now with that vile stench of his permeating her
nostrils. She tried to struggle but it was pointless. Her meagre
frame was like a matchstick beneath his bearish body. All she could do was try to breathe.
His attack was
relentless that night and Anna thought that nothing could be so
painful again. Of course she was wrong. Her father’s nightly visits became a routine and like clockwork for the next ten years his
depraved and torturous acts would become a normal part of her life.
Normal for him anyway… Now aged 19 she barely thought of anything else once she closed her eyes at, even though he didn’t creak open her door as much as he used to. His fists though… she was still at the receiving end of those.
Animalistic
and visceral her father’s anger was like an untamed wolf. Each
night she’d try to dream of freedom but as always his face would
intrude on her serenity and the attacks would begin all over again in her mind.
This night was different though because her dream was stopped in its tracks by something alien, something loud, something…
deadly. A gunshot. It echoed through the house and drifted up the stairs. At first Anna thought that she was still dreaming but that was until she could smell the gunpowder and she sat bolt upright in bed. This isn’t a dream, this is really
happening! For a confusing moment she
genuinely cared for her father and her instinct was to run