Kill for her

                            Prologue #1: Screams of the Past





         The past is something that should never be forgotten. In my case, I wish I could forget it. I’m Utsukushii-yasha Randova. Long name, right? Don’t look at me, I didn’t pick it, my mother liked the name Utsukushii, and when she died, my dad added yasha to it. My dad’s a real ass to say the least; I hear my mother, who was Japanese, was a real angel. I would guess that I don’t take after her because I’m far from perfect, like everyone else on this planet.

I want to tell you a story, but you can never tell anyone else the secrets of what you’re about to read, otherwise something…unfortunate, might happen. Ever since the pact I made with my beloved Leo’s father, my life has change dramatically. In order to escape my father’s grasp, for the likes of which you will learn, I agreed to go to America and leave Leo behind to wonder where I am. It’s alright though; I get to see him when I turn 18. Until then I waited in New York City, waiting for Kain, Leo’s father, to call on me and tell me to go to Ireland and see his blue eyes and dark hair.

         What has made me write this story is the truth that needs to be told.  Part of me hopes Leo never finds this book, the other hopes that he finds it and can better understand the things that I did and the reasons I did them. 





Prologue # 2: Just me





         

         My name’s Leo Stone, I found this little book written by my wife, and decided to add my own point of view along with it. Our past is one that seems to have been predestined, and I hope our life’s can continue to blossom as they have, even after she finds out I have written in this little book.

I’m the son of the Irish Mafia’s Boss, Kain Regan Stone.

         Starting from way back when, I'm so old now, I'm already 26. Anyway, I shall tell you what happened between us, and I hope you will forgive many of the things I have done in my past and that by writing this I can move on from the memories that haunt both my beloved Suku and I.

Kain is a typical Irish name, while I, with a very traditional father mind you, was named Leonardo. You know, like the painter? My father is obsessed with him. He has many obsessions that keep him entertained.

         Please, just call me Leo.

         I despised the name Leonardo, only because my father loves it so, and is the only one to call me by this.

         By the bye, I failed to give you a description of myself. I had straight black hair to the middle of my back. It was cut in hand to knife combat. Sigh. I’ll get to that later. My skins white. Blue eyes, which have been described as cold and unforgiving. I’m 6”4’ in height. What’s been described by hundreds of women who courted me as bold, handsome features. Most of the time, I have a light Irish accent.          

Enough of that, my story will start with Ireland, when I was seventeen, and a senior in high school. 





Chapter one: Ireland









“Father!” I stood in front of my father, Kain, fuming while my accent grew heavy; I lost my concentration on keeping the light. “I don’t want this.” I continued, placing one of my feet forward to accentuate my point.

         “Want what, Leonardo?  Power?  Money?  Not to mention, women?” He asked. His face was contorted into a fierce snarl that was normally used to intimidate those who fall out of line. Since I do often, it doesn’t work that well. “There are hundreds of them courting you, and thousands of men who would kill to take your place!” Father spun around, away from my face, and gripped the edge of his desk.

The act and emotion of an Irish crime boss, not of a father.

         This large study of his was made mainly for intimidation. The dark stone gleamed an evil glare, the light of the sun fading slowly through the overhanging window. The large castle that has served as a “so called” home as I have grown older. The sound of my dogs barking from outside told me that one of the guards had fallen asleep or stopped paying attention.

My hands tightened at my sides. My father never fails to make my blood boil. 

         I stood my ground and held steadfast to my place on the stone floor. He and I are the same height: kinda.  He’s a wee bit bigger in build, but I am only seventeen, I’ll fill out. I expect, with all my efforts in working out, that I might surpass him in strength one day. 

         In a very intimate jester, one that was never made, my father turned and placed his strong hands on my shoulders.

“No,” was all that was said to my request of going to New York.

         Like he can stop me…I thought.  I turned and calmly left to get my things. He wouldn’t know I’ve left until tomorrow night. This had to be the third time I was trying to escape; I didn’t want to come back here until I had accomplished my mission. 

         With the leash and harness back on my emotions, I entered my dark bedroom. I ignored the dust, hoping the maid would get to it.

         I hate it here.

          That’s what I’ve been thinking since my mother died. I straightened out my bed. That’s when my father retreated into his shell.  I’m delighted he did. 

After all, he killed her.

He forced her into her into her own little corner. I don’t think he ever loved her. But the funny thing is, when she died, his world closed even more.

         As soon as she died it was like the life got sucked out of this place.  She was the light of everyone’s world; including mine. I loved her very much.  The darkness often overtakes me to the point where I cannot sleep. I only pray that the darkness that haunts here doesn’t follow me.

         I’ve spent many sleepless nights tossing and turning, ever restless; this has yet to change.  At the age of seventeen I have killed many times: constant battles with idiots that have tried to overtake my family and have tried to kill my father, as well as me.  If you have not guessed, my family is vicious and will stop at nothing to gain victory over their enemies.  That’s a family trait that I’ve gained, unwillingly.

         I do not want to turn out like my father. I never want to harm my wife like him. Torture her, as bad as he did: Without even knowing it. He’s always so busy with work, that he never even spares me a glance as well. He isn’t exactly father of the year.

         That’s why I wish to go to New York.  I see life in the states as a new sort of adventure, one that is free of the Irish mafia.  As well as my father’s wings and his far outstretched hands that feel as if they overtake this world itself. If there's one thing I don’t like, it’s being suppressed. He needs to see what I’m truly capable of.

         I'm skilled with many weapons and methods to killing an opponent, but I prefer my knife skills. It’s just so much more personal. At the very least, my opponent deserves to be treated as a true opponent, and not just someone I'm told to kill. I'm also skilled in many forms of martial arts, such as Tai chi and Judo.

My knife and hands are not my only weapons.  I have a very quick wit and am in the top of my class for many reasons.  Although many think me frightening, I have a wide knowledge of poetry and art.

         I finished packing my bag and threw it on top of my bed. I smoothed out the crease that lay upon it.

         Nothing more to do now but to sneak out unnoticed. I thought while looking at my black bag.

         I opened my window and looked down upon a black haired person, or at least it seemed to be from this great height, looking around and doing nothing.  On the other side of the yard I saw two dogs, my dogs. I’ve trained them well.  They kill on site if it’s not mine, or fathers, scent.  The guards have to make the dogs get used to their scent. My favorite has the name of Jack.

         There’s no way of getting out from here, I’ll try the back.

         I shut my window and closed my sliding blanket that concealed it.  I crossed the length of my room in five long strides. Of all the things my father gave me in life, I’m glad he gave me his height.  I guess the black hair is nice, too; it gives me a sense of mystery.

         I inched open the door, looked outside and could see no individual. As to be expected. After I double checked my surroundings, I walked out, carefully shutting the door behind me. I heard her foots steps before she spoke.

         “Leo? What on Gods earth are you doing?” Stephanie said from behind her door. She’s lucky I haven’t broken her neck. She’s such an annoying girl. She belongs to the Russian mafia. My father’s all too annoying attempts to make peace with the Russian’s.  This was done by selling me off. If we were to get married, everything would be settled.  We would have an alliance.  A very strong alliance, seeing how I am the heir to the throne of the Irish mafia. How I wish she were Suku. I recovered myself.

         “I’m going for an evening walk. Care to join me, Miss?” If she does, I'm gonna kill her.  I thought.

         “It’s a bit chilly, but—” I cut her off.

         “Then it’s settled, good night Miss Stephanie.” I bowed my head and quickly made my Leave. 

         “But I, but I!  Humph…” From what I saw she turned on her heel and left back into her room.  What a wretched woman. 

         I’m surprised she didn’t see my bag. Stupid wench.

         I continued walking down the corridor, sticking to the shadows as much as physically possible. The walls are lined with nothing: Nothing but Darkness. A reminder of why I hate it here.

         “…heard ‘bout that there. Quite a tragedy…” A voice said; sounds like it’s from the long hallway. No one should be here. Not this late at night.

         The stranger made a “Tsk, tsk” sound. “Aye, can’t believe it me self. Poor boy… What’s the master thinking? Taking away that girl of his. They were so attached.”

         Another voice spook. “Shh! Keep ye voice down… The walls have ears.”

         “Right, right…” The voices slowly vanished. Hmm. I thought.  What could they have been talking about? Father and I, perhaps? Whatever. Eyes focused Leo…

         Another door closed. I halted in my tracks, flattening myself against the wall. Are they back again? I thought.

         “Arthur, stop!” A woman’s playful giggling sounded in the opposite direction. Must move faster.

          I all but ran down the stairs: Keeping quiet, of course. I’m so used to staying quiet it’s second nature to me now. I do it without even noticing. 

Thankfully.

I saw light at the end of the hall from the giant staircase for which I was coming down. Finally.

The constant guards’ always keeping watch was going to make this difficult. Eyes always watching, constantly moving, always there, always listening.

         Why couldn’t we simply just put in a lot of security cameras?  They’re a lot easier to avoid. Stick to the shadows and they never see you. They might catch a glimpse, a slight movement, perhaps a shifting of shadows. But they are controlled by man, and man makes mistakes.  Much easier to avoid.

         Finally, I’m outside.

         Why must there be so many guards? What’s the point? No one would dare trespass here… Well, maybe if there an idiot; plenty of those in the world. A sigh escaped my lips.

I made a dead run for the gate.  Finally, I’m free.  I looked around and finally my eyes lay upon my Chevy Corvette ZR1.  I quickly got in and drove to the Airport.  I gave my car keys to the valet, and had him put it with my luggage already aboard the plane. I then boarded a 7 hour flight to New York, New York from Dublin, Ireland.

I waved Goodbye to it all; my father included, from my first class cocoon, and settled in for a very long nap.

6 hours later I awoke to a captain’s voice saying, “Only 1 hour left till we arrive at our destination and start our descent into New York.”

I smiled softly to myself. I'm out of my father’s grasp. Finally.

                   



         



          “Damn it! I'm so late! Run Eve, run!” Why the hell didn't that alarm clock go off? I thought to myself eagerly, running down the stair case from my apartment. If I was late for first period again my teacher was gonna kill me for sure. Damn I hate chemistry…

         10 minutes later I arrived at the dreaded school. George Washington high school, a school to study business. The building folding in upon itself with its four stories and ugly brown paint, trimmed with white that made it worse.

         “Hey baby!” A man’s voice said from behind me.

         “Haven’t I been telling you not to call me baby?” I said to him. John was as annoying as ever. I never got the whole baby nickname.

         “I’m sorry, honey!” Now instead of an infant, I’m food. He ran up and hugged me. I made sure his hand’s stayed on my waist where they belonged. What’s with the nicknames all of a sudden, anyway?

         “I'm late for chem. I gotta go; I can’t skip with you today.” I forced his hands to his sides. Upon turning, I saw why he was so, well, possessive today.

         Rob was staring at me again. How annoying. He’s always following me everywhere. I'm not sure, but I think I saw him follow me home last week. I’ve been sure to lock all the doors and windows now because of him. I flipped my already flipped out short hair out of habit: Moved my bangs aside with my hand.

         Great, Rob’s not the only one staring; Kyle is to. When the hell did I get so damn popular? The only reason I'm with John is because I wanted all the people here to leave me alone.

         I sat down in my usual seat next to Brianna. She was at least less annoying than John. Rob, naturally, was seated right behind me. Great. I rolled my eyes and settled in for another boring, uneventful day.

         

         

         I walked away from school at the end of the day, someone’s following me again. It’s really starting to annoy me; maybe I should just kill him and solve the problem myself. I began to walk faster. No, I can’t do that, I have to stay pure and good, otherwise he will never let me have him. Guilt washed over me, an all too familiar feeling. Making Leo think I'm dead was the only way I could get out of my hell. I merged my way through the oncoming foot traffic and laughed as some tourist’s got swindled out of most of their money for some stupid fake autograph.



                                      Chapter Two: New York,

                                                          New York



Once off the plane, I practically ran to get my beautiful black car, with its black leather interior, and sleek black paint: Equipped with bullet proof windows and metal that wouldn't be scratched if a tank rolled over it.  A gift from my father. The only gift that I ever liked: It’s one of a kind.

         Hopping in, I drove to the most expensive hotel, and checked in for the night at the penthouse suite. I had a reservation.

         I wonder how long it will take my father to realize I have gone? Hmm. Wish I could see his face. Full of shock maybe? No… maybe a little pain, knowing I'm out of his grasp here.

         I grabbed the classifieds and started looking for an apartment close to my new high school.  George Washington High School.  Home of the Trojans, I believe. Nice. Let’s make our mascot something out of Troy and turn their destruction into a good thing. Humph. Whatever. I know the classes, so it looks ok. It’ll be a walk for me. I’ve already finished collage in Ireland. Yes. I definably will have to much free time.

         Out of curiosity, I checked to see how much money I had left with me. 25 million. Humph. Not a lot, but it will do. 15 million came from my mother when she died. The rest I earned from my allowance. My father used me as a hit man. Only 25,000 a kill. But, hell, its money. I believe that started when I was 15. It’s been a long 2 years.

Here’s a good apartment.

 

        The Ritz Plaza, Center of Times Square

   

I smiled to myself and picked up the phone.

          Over a year’s period the rent will be about 44,000. Good. Plus utilities, maybe about 55-60.

After my call, for which I instructed the man who answered that I was moving in tomorrow and that it was to be furnished in all black silks, satins, leathers, and metals, by noon. He has a long night ahead of him. It will be worth his wile. He's getting 5,000 for it. Plus the cost of the stuff, of course.

I went to sleep in a soft, puffy bed. Glad I told him big, but firm and no fluff on the bed… the softness was ridicules.

         The next day I awoke and went shopping for new clothes that might fit in here. This so called Zoom was out. I considered a place called Hot something. But that just wasn't me. Animal York looked ok. But once again, not me. I settled for some expensive place I didn't know the name of. I picked out a good suit, just in case, and a good floor length black jacket. I also grabbed a leather jacket that wasn't too tight, but made a lot of women swoon. Women.

         I also picked out a number of jeans. Nothing too baggy, but they were dark, dark blue. I grabbed some belts when I felt them still slipping down. Jeans belonged at the hips, not on your ankles or below you ars.

         I grabbed some hooey’s. Black of course. I selected some black button up dressy shirts that I liked. Some had light black strips.  Then a selection of shirts with, apparently, names of good bands on them. Flaming lips, don’t know them. FOB, who calls there band that?  And Three Days Grace. Finally something I’d heard of. The rest of my shirts had, made to look I presume, faded designee’s of some brands of stuff.

         Some of the women there touched my hair and commented on how soft it apparently was. I never noticed. Note to self; keep your hair in a pony tail. Maybe it will stop them from playing with it.

          After all was said and done I left and went to my new apartment. The building did look pretty nice. A balcony was a nice touch. Upon entering, everyone stared. I chose to wear my suit in. I liked it better than anything else. Hands in my pockets, I left my stuff in my car, keys with the valet with instructions to bring the stuff to my room later, I walked up to the front desk with a female receptionist.

         “I’m Mr. Stone.” Was all I had to say. She giggled, blushed, and showed me to the elevator, then escorted me to my room facing the south. No sun in the morning would wake me. I should still be able to see the sunset and sunrise if I looked towards that direction from the balcony.

         “I’m sorry,” This Irina said, “May I ask how old you are? I’m sorry; it looks like you’re in your Twenties. But I hear your seventeen.”

         “No, sorry. I am only Seventeen.” I finally got a hold of my accent. It was light again.

         “I can’t believe your parents let you live alone! You’re so young…”

         “Yes, well… in my family we do things differently.”

         “In Ireland?” She asked curiously. I could tell she didn't mean harm to it, but the conversation was getting to personal.

         “Yes. If you’ll excuse me, I’d like my room key, please.” I tried not to sound Impatient.

         “Ohh! I'm sorry! Here! Have fun. We all hope you have a wonderful stay here.” She bowed and left. She was cute. A little too chatty though… I shook my head, placed the key in the lock, entered.

          The room was big. The foyer, I guessed. To the right was the kitchen. To the left was the laundry shoot and to the left of that was the bathroom. Across from the bathroom, the bedroom. Nothing but black touched everywhere but outside.

          I took a right inside the door then a left once I got to the kitchen. The living room was 19’-9” by 12’-10” according to the news paper add. Big for one person.

The door bell rang. Funny, door bell for an apartment. Americans…

         I opened it. It was the valet with all my clothes. I instructed him to put them away in my bedroom closet carefully. He did. I gave him 1,000 dollars, he just stared at me.

         “Tell the women at the front desk not to send a maid. Ever. I do my own chores. Also,” I gave him 500 more, “Give this to her.” I winked, and sent him on his way. He was still dumbstruck. Apparently he expected a 50 or maybe a hundred. Ha.

Tomorrow would be fun. My first day of high school in America.

Hmm, I wonder how people will act. Normally people just get out of the way. Never speaking to me. Unless there women; Then they don’t leave me alone. I wonder if people will do the same here. Possible, if I present a threat. Which, I kind of do. Humph.

          After changing into my favorite pair of sweats and a good t-shirt I brought from home, I vigorously cleaned the apartment. After, I showered and changed, throwing my clothes into the shoot for the laundry. Clever idea. I worked out in my shorts. Crunches, sit-ups, push-ups, one handed then by fist. After an hour of that, I took another shower. Letting my hair flow behind my back.

         I liked it long. Every guy in my family had never cut their hair. Sometimes it was cut in battle, but that doesn't happen unless we are unaware the, for lack of a better word, predator is there.

         In my bedroom, the bed was huge. Period.

Had to be about 8” feet long and 8” feet wide. Who needs a bed this big? I wondered. Hmm, guess I’ll never know.

         It was night now.

         The Dark night stretched out its hand as if to control the world it’s self. Such a lonely time, but a beautiful color, or rather, shade. The opposite of pure: White. I’d rather be alone all my life than hurt the ones I love by being in the same business as my father. If I were to take over the mafia, than I would kill. Now, don’t get me wrong, I don’t mind that. But what I do mind is killing those who have not done wrong.

         The people I’ve killed have killed, and needed to be extinguished. They harmed many innocent people, and killed many innocent women and children. Not to mention women. In my book, it’s never right to harm a woman. I wouldn't dare.

         My father once ordered me to kill a woman named Victoria. She apparently ran away from her husband with her lover, Marcus. I helped them escape and change their names. They should be somewhere in Italy. Her husband was, in a word, a basted. He beat her every night: Sometimes within an inch of death.

         I killed him. Well, poisoned him anyway.

         When my father found out, he went mad.  I couldn't stand the next day, I was beaten so badly. I was sixteen. I never screamed, cried, or said stop. I thought I more or less deserved it.

         I touched the scar on my chest right on my heart. It was shaped like a crested. Like the moon. I can’t remember how it got there, or even when. But I did like it. I liked all my scars. Signs of victory: Of what I’ve been through. I climbed under my silk covers.

         I closed my Eyes and prayed for Sleep to come.

                                    Chapter Three: School Starts





I woke up dreamily to my alarm clock.  My nice, big, firm mattress was perfect, now I understand why people use such huge accommodations.  It gives you more room to move around.

         Then it hit me.  I start school day.

         Running straight to the bathroom, not wanting to be late, I started the shower and jumped in immediately not bothering to wait for it to turn warm, it was cold.  I didn’t know why I was so excited.  Perhaps it was because I was finally getting to spread my wings, live life my own way.  I’ve wait so long for this. 

         The shower turned warm slowly, but I was out by the time it did. I towel dried my hair fast, then the rest of my body. I ran to my dresser, threw on boxers. Then to my closet. I selected my button up basic black shirt with light black strips going sideways. I threw on a black T-shirt as an undershirt and put on the button up shirt, leaving it unbuttoned. Then selected my black dress shoes, and good dark jeans.

         I thought I looked presentable for the first day.

         My hair hung strait and heavy down my back. I ran a brush threw it about twenty times, and set my brush down on the bathroom counter. I left down stairs to ask the receptionists opinion.

         She nearly fainted.

         “Very handsome. And you look more your age…” she paused. “Can I touch your hair?” She asked innocently.

         Damn, forgot to tie back my hair…Sigh… “I guess it’s a price I’ll pay for your opinion on how I am dressed.” She played with my hair and I was off. I grabbed a red ribbon from my car and tied my hair back with a bow. It was the ribbon Suku used to wear.

         When I got to school I parked my car in my assigned space. On the way to the main office, I saw the most beautiful creature. She had amassing brown hair with strips of black and a little blonde mixed in. Beautiful features, brilliant green eyes. Short hair that framed her face and flipped out. Spunky I’d say. Short bangs that were swept to the left side of her face. Her hair flirted with her ears, which held dangling blue sapphires.

         Her eye’s looked almost Japanese; they had that curve to them. I heard her speak. She had the slightest Russian accent. Her eyes squinted as she laughed with her friends who paled in comparison to her appearance.

         I nearly tripped I was so distract. And that’s saying something. I don’t think I’ve tripped since I was 6 years of age. I shook my head to clear it and concentrated on finding the main office. It was easy as soon as I paid attention.

         “Hello. I'm Leonardo Kain Stone. It’s my first day at this school. I don’t have my schedule.” I gave the lady in the office my best smile.

         “Uhh... Ahem,” She looked to be dumbstruck. “Yes, here it is. There’s a map too. Welcome to our school! School starts in about…” She looked at the clock. “Five minutes… Have a nice day!” She gawked at me a moment more and returned to her work.

         This will be fun. I memorized the map for a minute and threw it away. I won’t need it anymore. I have a photographic memory, it comes in handy.

         I got to my first period, Advanced Ancient World Studies, easily. The teacher was a young woman. Wonderful, a guaranteed A. Like I need the help. I have to admit I didn't know what to do, so I grabbed a seat in the back, I heard most students gravitate to the back, and stared at the digital clock until it struck 7:30 and the final bell rang. Students came into the class room. First day jitters showed on everyone’s face, but mine.

         “Hi class! I'm saying this once okay, class? This is Leo, he’s our new student, I'm Mrs. Robertson, and we hope you enjoy it here. Now….”

         The class was filled with a lecture on ancient Roman Art, entertaining at least. The next class was Chem. Wonderful. The one subject I hated. I got though that class basically the same.

          I left the class in search of my next one, P.E. Fun. At least I would get to exercise at school, use some excess stress from a horrible second period.

         On my way, some punk ran into my right shoulder. Didn't even say excuse me or sorry… now that I could shrug off. What I couldn't was him saying, “Watch it!” To me… I grabbed the collar of his shirt, pulled him close to my face.

         “Excuse me? I don’t believe I heard you clearly.”

         He got closer to my face and said, “Watch. It.” Making the words two separate sentences. I released him.

         “Better back off. Don’t want to get hurt, do you?” The question was rhetorical.

But he answered, “Maybe you better back off, you don’t want to get hurt.” His two wing men grabbed my arms in an effort to restrain me. I Laughed.

He got close to my face again. “What’s so funny?” He TRIED to look threatening. It would have worked on others, it made me laugh more.

In one blinding movement, the two cronies were on the ground, one holding his arm, the other his leg.

         I had the other guy in a head lock the next second.

         “What the hell are you doing?!” A woman screamed. Pissed. I released the guy.  He fell, immediately got up, holding a knife, and cut my hair. Now, that pissed me off. I kneed him in the groin, held the hand with the knife in my hand and bent it backwards ‘til it was released. I reached back and pulled the ribbon out of my hair. Folded it in my pocket, and looked up again. My hair swooshed across my face and flirted with my shoulders.

         She was there! The girl with brown hair, and green eyes. Now that caught me off guard. Not many things do. “Sorry.” Was what I said, and walked over him, passed her on my way to class. She ran after me. Another surprise, she grabbed my arm. Held it in place.

         “What the hell is your problem? Huh?” I noticed the frailty in her voice.

         “I beg your pardon? He started it. I finished it. I'm sorry your boyfriend got his… Butt, kicked.” She noticed my pause.

         “You can swear you know? I'm not a girl who's sheltered.” The Russian accent was heavier now; she had to work to keep it back. I smiled.

         “What are you smiling at? Thug? Don’t talk to me,” She dropped her hand. “Or my boyfriend,” She rolled her eyes. “Again, got it?” She stalked off back to the direction of her very pathetic boyfriend.

         Damn. Looks like my chances of getting her are now, very slim….Damn.

         I walked off the other direction. P.E. would definably help me relive stress.

         What are the chances of the girl I fall for, I cringed, at literally first site, would have a boyfriend, and now hate me? Damn.

         Upon leaving I heard the man, well boy, say, “Eve! NO! Please, one more chance! Please!” Followed by, “Fine John! This is your last chance! You know I don’t like people who fight! Got it?”

         So the boy’s name is John, and the woman’s name is Eve. Hmmm, interesting. She doesn't like people who fight? Then she will detest people who have killed… Sigh.

P.E. was a wonderful help to relive stress, doge ball.

         I really don’t like this John character… Why didn't she just dump him? And why the hell do I care so much?

         



         

         Who the hell was that guy? What an ass… I thought about my situation. I had to dump John. He was getting too hard to withstand. How annoying. The guy he was fighting, he was hot. I remember seeing him this morning, is he new? Humph, haven’t seen him in the past, I would have remembered his long hair.

I wonder if his hair is that long now.

         I stopped myself right there. I was not allowed to think about him: About my past love. It was a self made taboo. I got up to the sound of the bell, avoiding Kyle as I made my way out of math. At least sixth period was over. I get to go home now.







After an excruciating fourth, fifth and sixth period, I was allowed to go home. All I want is a hot shower, and to contemplate my hair situation.

         “Ohh My! What happened to your hair? It’s so short now!” Irina said upon my arrival.

         “I decided to cut it. Does it look bad?” I made my best attempt at an attractive, mysterious face.

         It worked I guess, “No, no it looks… For lack of anything better to say, pretty hot! Shapes your face and everything! You look more mysterious, the look works for you!”

         She looked even more dazzled than yesterday. I guess it looked all right. I had to ask her one more question, “If the guy that you’re in love with had a girl, what would you do?”

         “I’d kill her! Especially if I really loved him. I’d get her away from him. Of course, I would make it look like a suicide, ha.” She closed her eyes and laughed lightly. I know she’s joking, but it’s not a half bad idea.

         I retreated to my shower. I bypassed the mirror on the way in, but had to look when I got out. It really didn't look half bad. Fell into my face; good amount of mystery.

         Next I went to my desk and pulled out paper. I began to write how I would kill John. If only to qualm my fears. First I would make sure that there’s a reason he would want to die. Being dumped maybe? Then how I would kill him.  Simple knife would do. The one that he had with him.

         Straight thought the heart? To easy, I’ll make it look like a murder, that they end up thinking is a suicide. That could be fun… Now, let’s see… I could play “Last Resort” by PAPA ROACH. Have it as an infinite loop… on his IPod. That would give them hints of, “This guys fucked up, maybe he wanted to die?” Then I could plant some fake diary pages, stating, “I can’t live with myself if she dumps me! I keep getting into fights, and she hates me for it… That’s it! I’ll kill myself, frame her, and make her live with my memory!”  Of course I’ll make him look like an idiot who didn't know what he was doing, and he will be put under as suicide.

         Hmm, perfect. So, slices on the arms, legs. Little cuts, no big deal. 

I threw on my sweats and started to work out again. After an hour, I stopped and took a shower. As the heat sprayed over my body, I thought of my father, how he would be reacting at that very moment. How furious he would be at me.

         I started to laugh, and then stopped. I thought of the Russian brat that I was chosen to marry. She’s only fifteen; we were expected to spend a couple years getting to know one another. Originally, I was supposed to wed her elder sister, Utsukushii-Yasha, whose mother was Japanese. I believe her name means Beautiful Demon in her mother’s language.  Why would they name their daughter that? Is what I had often wondered as a child. We were betrothed since we were born; I believe that she was my age, maybe three months younger.

         She was very beautiful. Until she died. Suicide. It was her, her father, step mother, and half sister. Her father blamed her for her mother’s death. She died giving birth to Suku, my pet name for her, we were quite close. I miss her; a lot.

         I tried to fight back the tears that had been threatening to fall for so long: The sting of which I have long remembered.  She died when we were 14. She had said she loved my hair, and that it should be long. That’s the only reason I let it grow. Her hair was also long, but brunette. She had beautiful green eyes, just like this Eve girl. Maybe that’s why I liked her so much: Because she reminds me of Suku.

         I got out of the shower, and as I had before, gazed at myself in the mirror. The scar on my cheek was still there. Suku and I were climbing a tree in Russia when I had come to visit. She fell, and I grabbed her, pulling her back up to safety. We must have only been 10 at the time. When I reached down to grab her, the branch sliced my left cheek, deep enough that I needed stitches.

         I smiled to myself. She freaked out at the sight of it. The first thing I did after getting her safely out of the tree was pull her into my arms. I was scared. Not for me, but for her. If she would have gotten hurt I couldn't have lived with myself. I can still imagine her light Russian accent; she worked as hard as I to keep it under wraps.

Most of the time we spoke English to one another, but I could always understand her when she yelled at me in Russian, Japanese even. I know many languages. She pretended not to understand Gaelic. 

I still remember the last thing I said to her. She actually didn't understand, and assumed they were words of hate, instead of love, “Tá cion agam ort…” it means “I love you” in Gaelic. We had just had an argument, I said this, and walked away. I assumed she misunderstood. She said “I hate you” back to me.  Or maybe she did understand, and she did hate me. She had a right to. I almost killed her father with a dagger.

We were in the study, he slapped her. I could feel the anger rising. A force I could never truly control, I didn't know what I was doing until she cried out, “STOP! Please, Leo!”

I froze. At her command I dropped the dagger, and then ran to her. I was 13 at the time, the last time I saw her. And she had died hating me. I punched the reflection in the mirror, glass shattered everywhere.  I rinsed my hand of the blood. It didn't hurt. This was pain I could deal with. A broken bone or three I could deal with. What hurt was inside of me. I turned out of the mirror’s reflection and climbed in bed to sleep. 



                              *                                  *                                    *



         One week later and I am still hung up on her. Only now I’ve set my sites on her boyfriend. It’s time I put my plans to good use. He was getting way to frisky with her. I was watching her of course, not that she or he would know. I kept tabs on her, by now I knew almost everything about her, not her more intimate secrets, I'm not low enough to sneak into her bedroom when she’s not there, or peep into her room at night while she’s changing. That’s quite a low and vulgar thing to do, don’t you think? Everyone needs privacy.

         Apparently this John doesn't care about that at all. At school, in public, he just comes along and kisses her, groping down her back, as if to say, “Yeah, that’s right, she’s mine.”  If I was her, I’d slap him. Thankfully, she did. Now I’ve about had it with him, he’s talking to some of the, his, guys around here about what he’s doing to her and what he’s planning to do. I'm done with him.

         I’ve heard a rumor that she’s dumping him in three days. I can’t wait that long. So, my plan that I made is going to be put to good use; Tonight.

         I Left my apartment. Midnight. With my black coat, black dress shoes, and very easy to move around in clothes. My suit. He had just broken all but the last of the laws that I have before I will kill someone:

         1. Assaulting the innocent.-check

         2. Committing Adultery.-big check

         3. Personally offending one or more of the people I value. –another big check

         4. Personally offending me.-definably a check

         5. Killing someone unjustly. –not yet

         These laws are the code of honor that I live by. I came to get them through the years that I’ve killed. I’ve always held high values, but now he was just making fun of them. Did this man have any morals? A since of human decency?! He was a complete dick as far as I’m concerned.

         I walked out the apartment and took the elevator down. When I reached the bottom I exited and started my way to his apartment. He lived alone too. Just like me and Eve. Once I got to his apartment, I climbed the fire escape and entered his room silently.

         “Hi John.” I said to the figure lying in the bed. I assumed it was him.

         “Dad? Five more min-” He snapped up, “Who the fuck?”

         “Watch your mouth; please… do you kiss Eve with that mouth?” I looked at him with a stern expression.

         “Done more than that to her, believe me!” He smirked.

         “I wonder…” I sliced his throat first, taking pride in my kill. Watching as the blood sprayed what seemed to be an endless river: The drain of color from his flesh. Then followed the procedure described before, without the papa roach. After all was said and done I returned home, took a shower and had a very peaceful sleep.