The Frayed Ends Of Sanity

I was sitting on the front porch of my (I suppose) cozy house in Huntington Beach, California listening to my American Psycho album by the Misfits. My family and I had moved here from Kansas at the end of my junior year in High School. It was kind of a drag, considering I had left my friends behind and all that other good stuff that comes with moving. I really don’t know exactly what the people are like here because I didn’t get out much; I’m not really a social person.

I suppose you’re wondering who I am, so I guess I should tell you. My name is Raven, but my real name is Grace (I know, ew, but I think you’ll know why it was that in a minute). I changed it technically when I was eight, but legally changed it on my 18th birthday, which is in late July. I’m an only child to my parents, Dawn and James, who are extremely religious. They, of course, don’t agree with anything I do or like. I’ve pretty much learned to ignore them.

My summer here was pretty typical for a teen. I got a job a few weeks after I got here. I had the late shift, which I noticed started in a few hours.

My sanctuary on the porch was disturbed by my mom yanking my headphones off. “Grace, your father and I are going to a church meeting and won’t be back until late.”

“I’ll be at work, so what does it matter?”

She frowned at me and walked out to the car followed by my dad who said, “If I hear anything bad about you, you’ll regret it.” I mock-saluted him. He left me, got in the car and drove off.

I don’t see why he threatens me. It’s not like I’m going to go get knocked up or something.

After about another hour, I decided I better get ready for work. I showered, threw on some jeans, my studded belt, and a Guns ‘N’ Roses tank top. I got into my black mustang and headed off.

I may have lied a little when I said my summer was normal. The job I got was a hit-woman, I guess you could say. My boss, whose name I don’t know for security purposes, “found” me and forced me to work for him.

I went through a type of training for two months and then I was ready to work. I was only made to make one kill so far. It was a rich guy in Vegas who had apparently cheated my boss somehow. He was a pretty easy kill, considering he was fairly old. Honestly, I think he deserved it; he was cheating on his wife for a girl only a quarter his age.

I parked my car in the designated spot 10 blocks away from the hideout. I walked the rest of the way, turned down the alley, and entered the code to get in.

I was greeted by my fat, ugly boss with another job. “You don’t need to change tonight Raven,” he said as I headed to get my uniform. “You’ll just be following him for a few nights to learn his schedule.” I groaned. I hated this part.

My boss gave me the address to start at and the keys to the vehicle I would be using. “Good luck,” he said with absolutely no sincerity.

I followed the guy around to various bars and strip clubs (figures) until about 2:30 a.m. when he finally went home. I returned to the hideout, gave back the keys and headed home to get some sleep.