The Assassin

This is a story I came up with and wrote in about 30 minutes. I saw this prompt and the story just kind of hit me. I realize it's probably not all that great considering the fact I typed it out in such a short amount of time, but it was fun to actually have the inspiration to write after not having really any free time to do so during this semester. So hopefully it's better than I think it is and if not, well, I had fun writing it.

She never forgot that it was a job, her way to provide for her family, to get medical care for her father and sister. She also never forgot what she was taking away every time she pulled the trigger: a father, a son, a mother, a daughter. Their faces haunted her dreams at night, but she never tried to make them go away. What she did to survive was nothing short of monstrous, but when she was the breadwinner of her family, she didn't see another way out. It made her hold her family closer each night she made it home safely.

She had tried earning money the right way, through hard work and sheer willpower. But she could never earn enough, not on her own, and she began to despair as her family slowly slipped deeper and deeper into debt. She was well-known for being an expert markswoman; it had been her one release as she'd grown up and she had practiced every chance she got. Still, she was shocked the first time she was approached by a tall man who wanted to hire her expertise to kill a man who had committed some crime against him. She had refused immediately on impulse. She had been taught that a gun was not meant to kill a human unless there was no other choice. But he insisted that she think about it, offering her a large sum of money if she accepted.

For the next two days, his offer rang in her ears, as debt collectors harassed her family, her father coughed and shook with fever, and her sister dragged herself about on her bad leg trying to help their mother. It was only when it became apparent that her father's life was truly in danger that she finally contacted the man and accepted the job.

For her first kill, the man told her afterward that she had done quite well. He had expected her to fail. Her hands were trembling as she took the money her offered her, the same hands that had shook so badly when she took her first shot at her target that she had missed and had to shoot again. She had cried the entire way home, shoving the money into her mother's hands and hurrying back out the door. She wandered the streets for hours, finally stopping at a small flower shop. For some reason they were offering a discount on funeral flowers. Walking inside, she found herself buying the largest funeral arrangement they offered and asking that they send it to the address the man had given her before.

After that first time, more and more people came to try to hire her services. She only accepted when her family was truly in need, when the money from her last job had run out. Her family's need never made the job any easier and they never asked her how she managed to get so much money in a single day.

Her hands grew steadier with each new job. She didn't relish the kill, she didn't go out for a drink afterward either. Instead, just as she had the first time, after every kill she made her way to a nearby flower shop and sent the family funeral flowers. The attached note simply said, I'm sorry. She never knew if they were aware of whom the flowers were from, but she desperately hoped they might provide a modicum of comfort. Each year after, she placed a single rose on the graves of her victims on the anniversary of their death.

As time passed, she began to wish there was more she could do for the family, some other small way she could show her regret and sorrow. It was during the winter while she sat knitting a pair of gloves for her father that the idea came to her. She began gathering basic information on the families of her past victims. She did her best to keep the information as impersonal as possible, though she soon found that to be far more difficult than anticipated. But she pressed on, finding out if the victim had been married and had kids, how old the kids were, what their favorite colors were, etc. Once she had enough information, she began to knit, making scarves, hats, and gloves for the families of her victims as she sat waiting for her next target. At the end of each year, she sent the completed items to the victim's families at Christmas along with another note saying, I'm sorry.

She put away her gun for the last time after her father's death. She had finally been able to afford the surgery her sister needed and her family was financially stable. She never picked it up again, determined to live the rest of her life doing honest work. During her time as an assassin, she had 43 confirmed kills. She had sent 43 flower arrangements and had knit over a hundred pieces. Regardless of her financial state, she continued to lay roses on the graves each year for the rest of her life. The families never knew who left the flowers, but it warmed their hearts to know that someone out there still remembered their loved one despite the passing years. Though she was the one to take their lives, she refused to let their memory die, striving to leave something beautiful in the wake of destruction.