Terry.

Terry couldn’t hold his stomach anymore and began puking his guts out in the dimly lit alley. He wondered about what he was getting himself into as he continued throwing up his lunch. Once he was done, he wiped his mouth, glancing around his surroundings. Paranoia taunted him, making him believe that the cops would show up around the corner at any second. He made sure to drive as far away from that damn house so he couldn’t understand why his mind was messing with him.

Well, he handled his first job pretty messily… Though they did tell him as long as those bastards were dead, he could be as messy as he wanted.

Breathing hitching as his brown eyes met tired blue ones, Terry nervously bit his lip as the homeless man stared at him, visibly afraid.

‘Shit. I’m screwed.’ he thought, looking down at his bloody clothes. Chill ran down his spine and he glanced at his gun, contemplating whether or not to kill the poor man.

The blue eyed man laughed nervously, his arms rising up, his hands taking on the role as shields.

“H-hey! Don’t worry, I won’t tell anybody!”

But Terry wasn’t too sure that the bum would do as he said.

‘He’ll tell his friends.’ a voice told him. ‘Then, they’ll tell their friends and then theirs until it gets to cops and you’re caught.’

“You’re right.”

The homeless man eyebrows furrowed.

“Who’s right?”

‘You need to kill him. Grab the gun and kill him. Now.’ And convinced by the voice, Terry pulled his fox mask down, and grabbed the home made silencer that laid by his feet.

Without a word, he shot the man, the bullet hitting his shoulder. The man groaned, his eyes widen in shock. He begged to the silent young man, not to kill him. That he promised he wouldn’t tell a soul about what transpired but his pleas fell death to the masked man’s ears.

‘Aim for the head this time.’ the voice suggested and he did as it said, rising the gun in one hand and aiming for the man’s head. He pulled the trigger and the homeless man’s eyes soon rolled back as his body lean back, falling on the concrete ground with a dull thud.

“Shit.” Terry cursed. He was slightly annoyed with himself for not thinking more clearly. Why did he have to be so impulsive?

“How am I gonna get rid of the body?”

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Author: Liv

Just a suffering Victorian era ghost stuck in the past but loves modern music, sushi, and singing despite being really boring.

One thought on “Terry.”

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