Black Read Online Free PDF Page B

me jump. Startling me so badly my heart races so hard that I have to place my hand on my chest to make sure it’s still there.
    “Drinks are in the fridge,” he says, then turns the music back up. He knew I was there, but chose not to acknowledge me. Instead he scares the living shit out of me.
    He’s standing right near it, so I elect to walk around the bench. He’s in the middle, the stove he cooks on has an island across from him. I choose to go around both so I can access the fridge. I open it and only see water, nothing else. I grab two bottles, placing one near the stove and then backing up, putting some distance between us. I chance a look around. The house is colorful. Words line every wall in graffiti. It makes me smile. I love graffiti. He catches me looking, now staring directly at me looking at his walls. I think I see a smirk, but it’s gone as quickly as it was there. He places a plate in front of me with chicken and vegetables lining the plate. My stomach rumbles. He hears and nods to the couch, picking up his own plate which contains the same food, but filled with more.
    He carries his plate to the couch, sits down and flicks on the television. He doesn’t watch it, though, it’s just noise to fill the room, much like his music that’s switched off now.
    I eat fast, chewing as quickly as possible to devour as much as I can. Soon my plate is empty, and the man next to me is still eating—half his plate still full. He slides it to me, standing and taking mine back to the kitchen. I eat his too.
    “Where are we?” I ask, finishing my last bite. He places his plate in the sink, looking at me. He leans on the counter, crossing his legs in front of him.
    “Lowood,” he replies, and I drop my plate. It shatters on the floor. He watches, his eyes taking in my reaction. I left this place years ago, never wanting to return, yet here I am in the house of a stranger.
     
     

 

    Shock radiates through her, I can see it on her now white face. She wasn’t expecting those words to leave my mouth. It makes me angry, her reaction to a place I once hoped she would return to. But now she’s looking for a way to run, to never look back again.
    It’s clear she has no idea who I am and in a way it makes me happy. But it also makes me mad, so incredibly angry. She doesn’t speak, but she looks around. Trying to work something out in her mind. I stand and watch her. She still looks sick, she isn’t healthy, her bones I can see sticking through her skin. Her face so tight, sucked in, and swollen.
    I wonder what happened to her to get her to this point, to get her to the place she was in now in her life. I shake my head. Fuck this, I wasn’t going back there. I think about saying something, anything. But no words come out. There’s nothing to say.
    My phone beeps, pulling me away from her. It’s a job I’ve been working on, and the location just came in for my next hit. I stand, leaving her there, not moving. Walking into my room and shutting the door behind me, I shut out emotions when I shut that door, locking them away like everything else.
    I pull my case from under my bed. It’s black, like everything else I own. So it’s not noticeable when you walk into my room. It’s a gun case and carries two guns—a handgun and a sniper rifle. I don’t use any other weapons, one or the other will work for me. It’s never messy what I do. I carry out the hit, get paid, no clean up necessary. I may leave a calling card, but I’m good at it.
    I change my boots to freshly cleaned ones. Leaving no trace is imperative. No trace of me whatsoever. I slide on a new jacket, then black gloves, grab my bag and walk out. Rose is now standing. She hears me come out and looks back to me. She’s looking through the window, staring out into the night sky. She looks peaceful for a moment, then it shatters when she sees me. Her face morphs, like I’m the bad guy. I am—I so am. She just doesn’t know to what extent.
    “Can I