The last of the winter coldness creeped into the sunny day with a final breeze that sent chills up my spine.
I stood by the busy road.
Waiting.
Waiting for my chance to walk across.
Every time I cross any street I remember the overused joke: “why did the chicken cross the road?”
To get to the other side.
Such a pointless joke.
I didn’t even consider it a joke.
Maybe that was the joke.
I shook the mundane thoughts out of my head and concentrated on the street again.
Once I thought I had my chance to pass, I took it.
With a slight jog, I began to cross the asphalt.
But as I ran through, the pen in my pocket slipped through and hit the floor.
The clicking sound instinctively made me turn around.
I was already late.
I didn’t want to be unprepared too.
With a sigh that expressed “of course it had to happen to me today, right now, right here of all places.”
I bent down.
I never knew I wouldn’t be able to get up again…
Next thing I knew, I was facing the most beautiful blue sky you have ever seen. The clouds seemed to be made out of the softest satin.
It’s like life slowed down so I could appreciate the creation of clouds.
While admiring the floating islands of white, my left shoe flew into vision.
The laces untied and dirty.
I should’ve cleaned them before I left the house.
No one wants to hire anyone that’s unprepared and sloppy.
I was already under qualified. Not to mention ten minutes late.
No education.
No experience.
No real skills.
What was I even doing here?
I knew I wasn’t going to get hired.
But then here I was.
The clouds still looked so beautiful.
My shoe was no longer in view.
I was no longer flying.
The initial numbness and shock was gone.
My back on the rough ground.
Gravel and shards of broken glass stabbing my sides.
With the realization of what had just happened, the pain came at me like a tidal wave.
Everything was in anguish.
People were screaming, yelling, crying.
But I couldn’t hear them.
They all just surrounded me.
I felt like a show to them.
Some people were just gawking with gaping mouths as if I just attempted an astonishing stunt.
Others took pictures with their phones.
Assholes.
I would hate to imagine my bloody face all over Reddit or Tumblr.
Some sick pervert would jack off to the pieces of glass embedded into my skin.
He would imagine himself right there next to me.
The smell of gasoline and tar mixed in with the musty smell of fear.
Has anyone called 9-1-1 yet?
The pain was becoming worse and I could no longer feel my arms and legs.
A warm feeling came over me.
I knew then that I had lost control if my bowels.
How embarrassing and pathetic I had become.
No job.
Lying on the floor.
Dirty and bloody.
And now soiled.
With an audience.
I just wanted to make a good impression.
The shouts began to to get more muffled. As if they were in another room that was separated by thin dry wall.
Faces became blurred.
They were saying something but the pain prevented me from paying attention.
My mouth felt dry and my throat raw.
Had I been screaming?
What was I saying?
Those people probably think I’ve gone insane.
But I guess I had always been a little crazy.
Who jaywalks across such a busy street for a job interview that they know won’t get?
I felt bad for the dumbass who ran me over.
What’ll happen to them?
Did I ruin their life?
Add another tally to the board then.
Just when I try to fix everything, something like this happens.
Why me?
Why now?
Why like this?
My mom always said I was a whiner. Even when I got my way, I was never fully satisfied.
Now look at me.
I’m the highlight of people’s day. They’ll think of me when they get home and maybe even before they fall asleep.
What more could a person want?
People just want to be remembered.
I’ll be remembered as the failure that couldn’t even successfully cross the street without fucking up someone’s life.
My sight had faded into dark like my thoughts.
As the numbness began again, I got the joke. The joke wasn’t taking about the other side of the road…

They told her that this is what she was waiting for.

The reason they accepted her.

The reason they’ve kept her.

Only half the plan was computed in her mind. The rest would have to be improvised. It’s what she was trained to do. Considering the scraps of information that they’ve given her, her plan seemed solid.

St. Maria Goretti Retirement Hospital.

Room 190.

That’s all the information she needed.

Dressed in all black, she stepped out of the car with an umbrella and a bouquet of brightly colored flowers.

The card read “Get well soon, Aunt Maggie.” It flickered in the wind.

The clouds withholding their rain for just a bit longer.

The stout security guards greeted her with flirtatious smile. She couldn’t help but smile back.

“Well, where are my flowers?” one of them asked.

“You’ll get your flowers someday.” She winked as she slipped by the metal detector.

“Hold on a sec,” said the other rent a cop. He didn’t have the same sense of humor. “Dave, hold the flowers and the umbrella. Miss, can you please go through the metal detector again.”

“Sure, no problem.” She handed her things to Dave and with a smirk said, “See? You did get flowers today.” Dave grinned as she strolled through the detector again.

“Miss, are you sure you took everything out of your pockets? We’re going to have to use the wand on you.”

She began to get worried. Being caught so early on during a simple task would be an embarrassment.

He got out the hand held metal detector. He slowly waved it over her fit body. Silent until it began to squeak over her breasts. They both began to blush.

“It’s the underwire in my bra.”

“Oh, right. I guess you’re good to go.  Check in at the desk. Have a great day.” He said halfheartedly.

She took her flowers and umbrella back from Dave the guard and walked towards the desk. While the nurses gossiped to each other, the woman pretended to write down her name, smiled at the nurses and walked towards the stairs.

She climbed the stairs, making adjustments to her plan in her head.

When she got to the third floor, she turned to the nest possible room. Fortunately the room was empty except for an old woman who seemed to be heavily sedated.

The woman in black slipped into the room’s bathroom. She laid down the the umbrella and the flowers on the counter. All she had to do now is wait.

She began to sweat underneath her coat. She brought down the toilet seat and sat down.

It was close to the end of visiting hours. Stripping off her coat, she looked at herself in the mirror. She wasn’t the child she once was.

Her long dark hair rolled up into tidy bun, her skin pale white compared to her naturally red lips. Her once bright blue eyes, now a dull grey. Though often considered striking, she despised her reflection. She didn’t see beauty anymore. She just saw a tool that she often used.

Like a carpenter uses a hammer. Or a writer uses a pen.

An hour later, the guests were cleared from the building.

The woman began her work.

Within the handle of her umbrella, a secret compartment. She unscrewed the bottom to reveal a syringe. Buried deep inside the bouquet was a vile of a clear liquid. They never told her what it was. But she accepted it, just how she accepted many things.

She waited a bit more.

The hospital was now as silent as it could get.

She creeped along the long bright corridor down to room 190.

The room was dark, with only distant streetlights coming through the window. The storm outside had grown angry and slapped the windows with wind.

She went in only to find a frail looking old man sleeping.

They sent her to kill him?

“The poor bastard looks like he’s going to die soon anyways.” she thought to herself. She walked over to his IV line. She filled the needle up with the serum and stuck the needle into the plastic tubing.

A hand gripped her forearm. “Wha… what are you doing?” asked the frail man. His eyes wide with fear.

“I’m here for to collect.” She said without looking at him.

She squeezed the needle, forcing the liquid into the tubing.

“Regina…”

The woman froze. No one’s called her by that name in so long.

She looked over at the man’s eyes.

They were her eyes.

Saddened, silver and cold.

“Regina?”

“D-dad?” She dropped the syringe as her heart stopped. “You’re supposed to be dead.”

“So were you.” he smiled at her. It was the sweetest smile she had ever laid eyes upon.

It wasn’t until she realized what she had done that it was too late. His gaze faded as did the grip on her arm.

“Dad? No! Don’t leave me again!” she cried out. She ripped out the IV from his veins, but it was too late. It had reached his heart.

Wanting to stay but knowing to consequences she slithered back to the elderly woman’s hospital room.

In the bathroom she sobbed silently, holding in the cries, as she heard nurses rushing into room 109.

She slept on the floor of the bathroom that night.

When morning came, she grabbed her coat and stepped out of the bathroom and tossed the flowers into the trash bin by the door.

“Janice? Janice is that you?”

The sedatives had worn off. The old woman stood by the window squinting at Regina.

“Excuse me?”

“Oh, sorry. I… I thought you were my daughter.” The woman walked towards the bathroom. “That’s what happens when you have high expectations… you end up getting disappointed. I haven’t seen her since I’ve been put in this place.” She mumbled as she walked into the bathroom and shut the door. She continued to mumble inside.

Just as Regina was going to walk out, she sees the cheap grocery store flowers in the bin.

“… But it’s okay I guess. I was starting to feel like a burden anyways. The kids were all grown, and I can barely walk. Now what did you say your name was? Miss?” The woman looked around her now empty room. All she found was a vase with beautiful flowers.

~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~

“YOU LIED TO ME!” Regina screamed.

“Did I? No. I didn’t. I said that if you did this job for me, you would get to see your father. You did… didn’t you?”

“You sick fuck!” She threw a punch but missed.

“No, no, no. You’re letting the emotions run your actions. What was all that training for?” He teased. He was right.

Memories of her emotional childhood flooded her head.

Eads taking her from her father.

Telling her that he was dead.

Training and educating her in things no child should learn.

Every mistake was a beating.

She distanced herself from everyone and everything.

She restrained herself.

Emotionally and physically.

“That’s a good girl.” Smiled Eads. “Now, Vessis, after you rest up, we have another job you.”

“Yes, sir.”

The tense feeling of her demise was closer than ever. She apprehensively neared the twisted structure. People, much like cattle, walked on in line. The usher seated her and the restraints lowered. Isla’s fate to be carried out in screams. Her dissolution only existing within the depths of her mind. It’s only just a ride.

I was on all fours. Sweat, hair and blood on my face. I can taste my blood on my teeth… or what was left of them. Any other guy would’ve struck back but I couldn’t help but smile. You gave me another swift kick to my stomach, making the pain ripple through my body. “you filthy piece of…!” Another kick. My laughter growing as her frustration and anger consumed her. It was hard to believe that she was once a gentle angel who’s wings embraced me. She made me see sunsets when I closed my eyes and promised me I would never be alone.

Now here I am, bloody and broken, in her basement. Her voice taking me home as she calls me a “lying son of a bitch.”