Define "Normal" For Me Again. I Seem to Have Forgotten

You know, killing people gets old really quick. Seriously, Vinny, my “boss” has no creativity. He wants me to kill the same way every night. Go in, shoot a couple of bullets in everyone, leave at least one still living, taunt them, get some info, kill them, clean up. It was all the same!!!! And I was starting to get sick of it, even though it has only been a few days…well, okay, so it’s been three.

“Vinny, I gotta bone to pick with you!” I yelled, barging into one of his many meetings. “I am so sick of killing people your way! It’s so boring! Give me something else to do or I’m leaving.”

All eyes narrowed in my direction. Vinny sat back with a smug grin.

“So, you can’t take this life anymore?”

“Oh, no, I’m fine with the killing, it’s just I fall asleep from boredom every time.”

I see. “Well, just hang around for a few more moments while I finish this meeting, okay, Tiff?”
I smacked my gum. “Sure, but don’t expect me to wait too long,” I replied, rolling my eyes and walking out the door.

Before the door shut completely behind me, I heard someone mutter a quick “She’s not right in the head- got a few screws loose, I reckon.”

I laughed. If only they knew. Not five minutes later, the suits left and I was summoned into the office. Here we go again.

“So, Tiff, you are unhappy?”

“No, just completely bored. Have you ever thought about changing it up? You know, throw in a few surprises?”

“Tiff, what we do is our M.O. there is no other way.”

“I don’t think you get it. They can catch you easier if you do the same thing every single fucking time!”

“Not if you pay the right people.”

“Seems an awful waste.”

“How so?”

I slumped in the client chair and propped my feet up on his desk. “You’re wasting money and effort by killing your way. Now, if it were me in charge of the mob, I would let my members get creative and spice things up. Who knows? Maybe new and better torture methods could arise! Look at the French Revolution!”

“I see you know your history. And here I thought you never went to school.”

I shrugged my shoulders. “Only a few times. School is for wusses.”

“Really, now?”

“Yea, I mean they force you to follow rules to become clones, then when you get out in the real world, they expect creativity. The entire system is a hypocrisy.”

“You don’t like following rules, do you?”

I swung my legs back around and stood up. “Rules were put in place for me to break. I see this conversation is going nowhere, so I will be on my way.”

I was halfway to the door when he repeated the words that everyone has told me.

“Tiff, the only reason I kept you in the first place is because you’re emotionless when you kill. You’re as dead as the victims you kill. Tell me, because you don’t have a conscience, would you even be judged when you die? Or would you just go straight to Hell? I think we need to find out.” I heard the cock of the hammer and the loud pop from the barrel. I quickly ducked and pulled my gun out of the holster and took aim at the spot in between his eyes.

“I’d rather you find out first.” I said as I pulled the trigger.

His body fell with a loud thunk. Upon hearing the heavy footsteps outside, I quickly crossed to the other side of the room- making sure to step on the body in the process- and jumped out of the second story window. As soon as I hit the ground, I took off running.

There was no way I was going to hang around for a bunch of angry mobsters to come and track me down. When I was safely out of the city limits, I slowed down and started looking for some pathetic fucker to pick me up and drive me to the East Coast. Let me tell you this: there are a lot of rude fuckers on the road. It wasn’t until nightfall when a giant bus pulled up beside me. At one glance, I could tell that it wasn’t Matt’s and his buddies.

“Hey, you need a ride?” A mop of red curly hair asked.

“Yea.”

“Where are you going?”

“Far away from here.”

“Are you a runaway?”

“No, I’d rather think of it as escaping captivity. Are you going to help me or what?”

“Get inside. What’s your name?” he asked, offering me his hand to climb up the steps.

“Tiff.”

“I’m Ray. Welcome to My Chemical Romance’s tourbus.”

“Sweet ride.”

Oh, this will be fun.