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forty two | therapist

After a while of awkwardly dancing — more like bouncing— in the corner of the room, in attempt to not look like a freak, Elijah walks up to me.

"Nice moves," he teases.

I roll my eyes. "Nice face." Shit, that's not an insult.

"Thanks."

"That's not what I—"

"Too late. You already said it."

I look down at the floor. "What do you want, Elijah?"

"I, uh... I wanted to ask if you..." He rubs the back of his neck, looking slightly nervous all of a sudden. "Do you want to dance with me?" he asks in a rush.

I chuckle at how cute he looks right now. "Why do you look so nervous?"

"Because you've rejected me about a thousand times already."

"I'll dance with you," I agree.

His smiles. "I totally knew you'd say yes."

"Don't get too cocky, mi pollo. I can still change my mind."

He takes my hand and leads me onto the dance floor. "You're the only person that makes me this nervous, you know? I never hesitate with anyone else."

"Keep hesitating, then." I wink. He  gently pulls me closer to him, keeping his hands on my waist. "I said hesitate, not pull me against your body."

"I don't have to hesitate with having you pressed against me. Every girl likes that. I'm sure you like it, too."

I scoff. "Why would I like this?"

I wrap my arms around his neck and we sway to the slow music playing. "Because you're slowly falling in love with me," he teases. Yeah, right.

"You wish."

"No I don't. We're friends." He smiles.

I narrow my eyes at him. "You're such a pain in the ass."

He chuckles. "The good kind?" He wiggles his eyebrows.

"No, it makes me want to punch you in the face."

He steps back and holds his arms out on either side of him. "Nobody is stopping you. Go ahead."

So I do.

I lift my fist, and punch him right in the nose.

He groans and his hands fly up to his face. "F*ck, Bree. That was hard."

He runs and grabs a serviette, then holds it against his nose and tilts his head up.

He told me to punch him because he didn't think I would. He didn't think I had the guts. If I am going to kill Antonio, I can't be soft. I can't hesitate or feel bad about anything.

I can't feel anything.

Things have definitely changed. I may not have the guts to kill Elijah, and yes I am admitting that, but I can't be weak. Not for anyone. Definitely not for Elijah.

If I mess up and Antonio finds out I'm trying to kill him, he will kill me and everyone I care about. I can't let that happen.

I have to be stronger than him.

Antonio is good at what he does, and if I hesitate for even a millisecond, it will be over.

I am not the same girl I used to be. This job has obviously changed me. I can't be that soft, helpless, happy girl I used to be.

I am not allowed to be soft. I am not allowed to care. I am definitely not allowed to be happy. I have to hide all of it. I have to accept what I am now.

A hired killer.

I glance at Elijah who has a few bloody serviettes in his hands and one pressed against his nose.

It feels like a hand is wrapping itself around me and squeezing, and I can feel the pressure of my body being pulled into a place that I don't want to go.

Stop. Stop. Stop.

I squeeze my eyes shut, not knowing what to do. I'm not choosing to kill Antonio to save Elijah. I'm not doing it to save any other targets, either. I am doing it because maybe it'll save me from myself.

Or maybe it'll ruin me.

I'm selfish. There's no other way to put it. I'm not somebody that is likeable or friendly or open.

I know I'm horrible and a part of me doesn't want anyone to like me. There isn't anything to like, anyway.

I quickly rush out the door. I honestly feel bad for punching Elijah. It's not that I feel bad because I like him romantically. I'm just not a sadist.

The way he would choose me over anyone else doesn't give me butterflies. The way my skin tingles wherever he touches me doesn't mean anything. The way he sang that song didn't break my heart. The way I have imagined kissing him again doesn't mean I actually want to.

F*ck, is this denial?

No, it's definitely not. There is no way that I like my ex-best friend who I was hired to kill. No motherf*cking way.

Wow.

I walk a few blocks down, away from the party. It feels like there are a thousand voices screaming in my head. It makes me feel so lost and hopeless.

I don't know what I'm doing anymore. I wish I had someone that could help me. Maybe then I wouldn't be such a terrible person.

I take a few deep breaths to calm myself down. I just need to organize my thoughts.

One: I'm not going to kill Elijah, I'm going to kill Antonio.

That way I won't be trapped in what seems to be an endless cycle of killing. With Antonio dead, the nightmare will finally end.

Two: I definitely do not like Elijah. I'm doing this for me, not him.

Three: I'm so pathetic. I'm so useless. I'm so stupid. At this point I really don't want to live anymore because I have nothing to live for. I don't even like myself. I hate the person I've become.

My breath hitches and I stop walking.

Stop! I don't know how my thought escalate to this sometimes. I wish I could deny it and say that some part of me is good but it would be lies.

I probably need a therapist.

I notice three guys standing, huddled in the darkness of an alley. It screams all kinds of danger, so I walk towards them, not caring what happens to me.

Not caring if, by some happy accident, I die.

•<•>•

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