The Ghost

Chapter 4

My hand flies to my purse, and I pull out the pocketknife in there.

Oh, how I wish I had my gun.

I flick open the pocketknife and hide it behind my back discreetly. I walk into my room, like I was clueless to the fact someone was in my home. I don't hear anything. Nothing is out of place, and there is nothing announcing someone else's presence. I don't know how I know. I just... do.

I guess you could call it my sixth sense, or whatever. I know there's someone in my apartment like how I'd stop at nothing to keep the town of Bedford safe. It's an impulse. I walk into my room and put my purse on my bedside table. I go into my closet, still holding the pocketknife.

The person won't attack yet. They'll do so when I'm most vulnerable. When I have less of a chance of fighting back. The person could do it when my back is turned, but that would make them a coward. They're killing a Ghost. They're not going to be a coward when killing a Ghost.

I set my pocketknife onto a shelf and change into a t-shirt and boxer-shorts. I then grab my pocketknife, and flick it closed. I walk from the closet and slip into my bed, closing my eyes. I hold the pocketknife under the blanket, and wait for the intruder to come.

I wait about an hour, listening for the intruder. Finally, I hear light footsteps. I open my eyes slightly to see a slender figure making it's way over to me.

A woman? I'm not sexist. I know women assassins are as good as men. But, still. Why send a woman against me? To subdue me, you need someone about twice my strength. Oh, well. That makes this a tad easier.

I feel her turn me onto my back, and that's when I act. I silently open my pocketknife and slip my hand from the blanket carefully. I roll and stab her in the stomach quickly. She gasps and staggers back, dropping the dagger she had in her hand to clutch at the wound. I roll out of bed and grab the dagger swiftly. I whirl her around and hold the dagger to her neck.

"You cannot come into my home to kill me and get out alive," I whisper into her ear. "That's a valuable lesson, that you sadly won't live to correct."

She gasps, trying to speak. I loosen my grip on the dagger slightly. "I-I'm not alone." She whispers.

Heck. I slit her throat and drop her dead body onto the ground. I move out into the hallway, my pocketknife in one hand, the dagger in my other one. I find the man in the living room, leaning against the front door. He sees me and snarls, lunging forward. I let him come and plunge the dagger into his stomach.

He gasps, doubling over and clutching at the wound. I dart into my room again and grab my phone. I shut the door, locking it. I dial Keith's number, and he answers almost immediately.

"Hello?" He sounds tired.

"Keith? Sorry for waking you. Do you think you could either come to my apartment or send someone out? I just had to kill a woman, and there's a man bleeding to death in my living room."

"What?!" I hear shuffling, as if he's getting out of bed, and into clothes.

"I'm fine," I assure him. "I'm not hurt. But, I can't get the bodies out myself, and I don't know how many people are here."

"How long have you known they were there?"

"About an hour, now," I say.

"And you didn't call?" I hear a door close, and him walking out.

"I couldn't let them know I knew," I say.

"Right. I knew you shouldn't have gone back."

"Awe, nice to know you care," I say, my voice teasing.