A Little Piece of Heaven in My Solitary Hell

"See you later, sweet cheeks," hisses my boss, Bo, as he steals one last sloppy french, leaving a little trail of saliva around my mouth.

As he walks away, I wipe it off with the sleeve of my jacket, a sick smirk on my face.

His breath tasted like cigarettes and whisky, but it smelled like blood.

I'm sure that the only reasons he keeps me around are the fact that I can kill quickly, and that I allow him to have his way with me whenever he wants.

I adjust my clothing and walk out of the alleyway, hearing the name of my next target repeat in my head.

Johan Keenan, foreign exchange student at Woodward Mills Private School in southern California. What his teachers and fellow students don't know is that he's been sent on a kill mission of his own, a mission I can't allow him to complete.

Stalking through the crowded streets of San Francisco has become quite a drag. I never stay in any place more than a month or two, but business is good here. So is the nightlife.

The drug flow is constant, as well as the supply of cigarettes and alcohol. And the sex is probably the best.

After scanning the streets for quite some time, I see my car.

A sleek, black 2017 Camaro. Bo got it for me on my twenty first birthday. He has connections, so he can get me prereleases of just about anything.

No, I don't love him. Quite the opposite actually.

But he pays the bills. No sense in fighting it.

I climb into the driver's seat and start it up, a smile on my pale white face. I know people are staring at the car. I know they wish they had it. But that's not why I'm smiling. I'm smiling, because I know exactly where to go spend my paycheck.

I speed down the street with my music loud and windows down, laughing all the way.

As I near the bad part of town, people begin to wave at me. They all know me in these areas. Most by different names though. Some know me as Trixie, some as Kayla, a few as Brianna, several others know me by several different things, and maybe only one person knows my real name.

The thoughts begin to cross my mind as I pull up to the club. The thoughts of my past.

I dismiss them as I run inside, seeing my little group sitting in the back. The music is making the floor throb and I can smell a million different substances. I'm just here for the pot.

If you've never driven high, it's completely exhilarating!

Greg calls me over by the one name of mine he knows, Heidi. He thinks I'm a Russian model.

I giggle and walk over, stumbling slightly. My motor skills have taken a hit from all of the damage.

"What do you want today, love?" asks the British heart throb, trailing his fingers down my cheek as he searches my eyes for some hint of vulnerability.

Smiling slyly, I whisper in his ear, my false Russian accent masking my Romanian one, "I want to go to space."

He chuckles and looks back at his posse. He holds up a finger to say he'll be gone for one minute and takes me into the back room.

"You know the price, beautiful," he says with a sick little smile, taking a light grip on my waist.

I nod and smile, jumping onto him with my legs around his waist. His hands move to my hips and I kiss him violently, pushing him against the wall. He eventually stumbles over to the small bed he keeps in the back, pulling his jeans to his ankles and taking my shorts off, moving my underwear to the side. I keep kissing him and do as he tells me.

A few minutes pass and he's done. He hands me a grain of pot and some rolling paper. He gives me a sloppy kiss like the one Bo had and leaves.

I smirk and giggle, rolling the blunt and taking in as much as I think I need. I let it settle in and leave, smiling and stumbling into my car.

Everything about the way I'm seeing the world is perfect now. I take off, speeding down the highway with a smile, laughing and swerving on the surprisingly bare roads.

Nothing could go wrong.