I felt my hands quiver as I stared at the bloody body now laid in front of me. I barely noticed my own screams, my legs giving way and sending me crashing to the floor. I wish I had gone unconscious but even with the fog my mind made to protect me, I still couldn't avoid the man whose blood was now soaking into my carpet; the man whom I just killed. Not long after that, my father came rushing into the room, baseball bat in hand. I watched the concern in his eyes morph into what felt like horror when he saw the scene.
"I… I didn't mean to." I stuttered, "he came at me, a..and I, I just… oh god. Oh god! He… he's dead."
I kept repeating it to myself limply, even as my father dropped the bat and ran to hug me. "I'm so sorry."
Within the hour, I was packing a bag full of all my most important possessions. By the next, I was locked out of my room. My father ran me a bath and told me to come downstairs as soon as I was done. I obliged. When I got downstairs my father was speaking to a tall older woman with bleach blonde hair. She was maybe in her late 40s and would have been the most beautiful woman I had ever seen had it not been for the jagged scars that traced along every inch of exposed skin. That's not to say she wasn't still beautiful, but more than that, she seemed dangerous. Her smile which might have been warm in another life or even another day seemed sickeningly sweet, her eyes were a grey that looked marked by decades of stress, and there was something about her demeanor, I couldn't decide was terror, or raw charisma. He handed her my room key which she then passed on to two men in suits standing beside her. In a way I sometimes saw my father do as a child, they nodded to each other and wordlessly approached the stairs. That's about when everyone noticed me.
My father stared me directly in the eyes. Making sure I knew exactly what he was thinking. "Sabina dear, we have guests. Can you make us some tea?"
I nodded and made my way to the stove, my hands continuing to tremble. I could feel her looking at me. At first with intrigue and then confusion. She then focused back on my father who once again spoke. "I'm sorry I was behind. I needed some time to get the money but I have it all now. We can just go back to our previous arrangement and-"
"That 'arrangement' was made before I found another one of my men fucking dead." She cut him off in a thick British accent, slamming her hand on the table while maintaining that sickeningly sweet smile. "Do you know how difficult it is to get people who are that loyal Eric?"
My father flinched trying desperately to avoid looking her in the eyes. "I'm sorry."
"Of course you wouldn't know anything about loyalty." She chuckled, "unlike you however, I care for those who I've had business relationships with. You were one of our finest Eric, but it would look very bad on the family if we let you off with a warning. So how about this. You work off the rest of his contract, and I'll forget about this little… stunt. Understood?"
"Yes… mam." My father held out his hand to her. She began to do the same when one of the men rushed down the stairs holding a fresh picture. He whispered something into her ear which momentarily broke her cool exterior.
She grabbed my father's hand and pulled him towards herself. I could hear him begin to struggle. "You know I don't like liars Eric."
"Please, I'm telling the truth! I did it!" He trembled trying to break free his pleas accompanied by the distinct cracking of bone.
Instinctively I grabbed a knife. My hands still shook as I spoke, "D…Don't hurt him! Please!"
She stared at me in what looked like mild disbelief and then she laughed. Letting my father fall to the floor she walked up to me and effortlessly pulled the knife out of my hands. "You did this?"
I stared at my father who was on the ground whincing in pain. His eyes pleaded for me to keep quiet, but I knew that wouldn't work anymore. "Yes."
"I'm impressed." She smiled. "Sabrina was it?"
"Sabina." I trembled.
She smiled, patting me on the shoulder and turning to my father. "You did a good job keeping this one from our kind. Clearly not good enough."
"Please-"
"I've grown bored of our arrangement," she once again interrupted. "You have a talent my child. How about we make a deal. I don't rip your father limb from limb for disrespecting me, and in exchange you work to replace the man you killed."
I could hear my father beg. Staring at the tall woman in front of me I felt my legs begin to give way again, but I took a breath, and looking her in the eye for the first time, I uttered the words that would change my life. "Deal."