I slammed the door to the house and stumbled into the street. The bright sun sat heavily in the sky, as if bloated on the pain I felt, its’ overwhelming heat pressing down on my body and soul.

“If you find me so horrid Anthony, then why keep me around for so long? Why hurt me now?” I asked the sun, not caring what the real recipient of the question thought. “It is an assassin’s job to be without passion and feeling… It is my job to show no feeling! Can you not understand that? I –I thought I was trying to love you in a way that showed. I do love you, but it is my job not to show it, can’t you see that?” I half whispered, then swore loudly.

“You cannot feel, I have learned that much! So leave now you wretched witch!” shouted the man as he closed the door forever.

Tears welled in my eyes, but I clamped down on my soul, going to the place of heartless feeling that I traveled to when hurt. My eyes half blinded, I wandered down side streets and vacant crossroads, in search of Brother. Twice I was stopped and offered a drink by concerned men, with looks of pity and lust in their eyes; but they quickly left when I pulled a knife from my bodice. I finally found Brother, in a smith shop, having a sword polished to a silver sheen.

“Brother, I am no longer under his employment, I can work for the company again.” I said, my voice flat until I reached the word “his”.

“So be it… follow me into the sweets’ shop across the way, and into the back room at five to eight.” Brother said calmly.

I turned and walked away, not needing to tell Brother I would be there. He knew I would not refuse. I had worked for Brother before I had worked as a private assassin to him. He was the head of the Senate, and my lover… until this morning. Even with the past still fresh in my mind, I knew Brother could give me a job and money, with no questions asked about my former employer.

I walked down main roads now, not caring who saw me. I made my way toward the biggest inn in town, The Mortal Man. The doors swung open into the lush lobby filled with blue and green tapestries and rugs. I pushed through the packed room to the front desk and shouted to the main man to get me the usual room. All of us, who are paid by Brother, have special rooms here at The Mortal Man. A bellboy grabbed my hand and led me to my room. I let myself in and ordered dinner.

At ten to eight I moved towards the sweets’ shop. A clear breeze had started blowing and pushing. I entered the shop and made my way to the back room. Brother sat at a low table, head bowed over a sheaf of papers.

“Come. Sit,” Brother ordered.

“Who is it? Where?” I asked impatiently.

“The “problem” is male. He will be at the The Mortal Man in room 223 at ten. Just wait and shoot. It is a simple job,” Brother explained.

“Will he be with others?” I asked for clarification. No use killing the wrong man.

“No, just him,” Brother replied.

I stood up slowly, bowed, and walked out of the room. I stopped at the counter and ordered a bag of lollipops for the long wait ahead of me.

It was ten o’clock and a light had just turned on in room 223. I had been waiting in position for two hours now, and me legs were cramping. I raised the pistol to the open window and watched. A shadow form appeared and I shot, the bullet breaking glass and skull, from the sound of it. I cleaned up and went back to my room. Slowly, the pain I had blocked away came back, and silent tears carried me towards sleep.

When I woke up a newspaper had been slipped under my door. I flipped to the obituary section out of habit, and gasped at the first name. The tears started again, and my heart pounded in my chest.

The death of Anthony Kelper:

Killed by assassins in room 223

Of The Mortal Man. Funeral at 2 pm

On the fourth day of Agust.

“Assassin! Heartless damn assassin!” I screamed, tears turning to madness as I collapsed on the floor.

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A/N: I think I got present and past tenses mixed up, so tell me where.