Trust Me

The ground was hard underneath her. Bits of hay poked her through her jeans. One of her legs was bloody and swollen from where she had been shot earlier in her thigh. The cloth was soaked through and stuck to the wound. Her hands were tied behind her waist. The barbed wire bit into her wrists and a trail of blood ran down into her palm and gathered there. Her knuckles were torn and bloody; they stung every time they brushed the ground.

She used the heels of her boots to push herself the last inch towards the wall. She felt gently for the edge of the busted pipe she knew would be behind her. She started to saw at the wire, but the more pressure she put, the harder the barbs dug into her already tender skin. A tear rolled down her cheek, tracing a path through the grit and dust on her face. She gritted her teeth and forced herself to keep cutting until she felt it give. She brought her hands in front of her, and she bit her lip when she saw the damage she had done. She patiently pried the points out of her skin before trying to slowly get to her feet. She started to crumple when she put weight on her leg. She backed against the wall, breathing hard. Before she caught her breath the door opened.

A woman in a floor-length Victorian-style dress sailed into the room, looking extremely out of place in the dirty, run down barn she had found herself in. Her hair had a certain amount of wild appeal to it, not elegantly placed, but gave her clear face an intense effect. Eyebrows arched perfectly over dark eyes, so dark that they looked almost black. The woman smiled sweetly before offering her arm to the injured girl. Hesitant and distrustful as she was, the girl refused.

The smile subtly changed to a smirk before the woman spun on her heel and began to walk out of the room. She stopped before she had gone too far, and reached into the folds of her dress. She pulled out a dagger, gazing almost lovingly at it while she ran her thumbs along the edge. “You know darling,” she said softly, “it didn’t have to be this way. Next time I see you, honestly you should trust me a little more.” The corners of her mouth lifted on the last words.

She threw the dagger.

It connected with a thud in the girls chest and stuck. Blood immediately covered her chest and she slid down the wall. Her vision clouded and her eyelids drooped. As she watched the blurred form of the woman walk out the door, her eyes locked on the objects floating down from the rafters. Blood gurgled from her throat into her mouth as she tried to name them.

Rose petals.

Your Sweet Assassin

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