Confessions of a libra

Credit: Here

17.05.25

I felt him before he arrived, and I was ready for him. I sat on the edge of my bed, joint in hand. Taking long luxurious drags. If this is how I must die, then let me die high and in style. I’d worn my favourite mini black dress, and had on a wide brim church hat for dramatic effect. One purchased for this exact moment, but he never needs to know. There was no other reasonable way into my bedroom so he would have to come through the bedroom door I sat in front of.

As though I summoned him, the knob turned slowly. He opened the door in the darkness and found me by light of the dim torch he was holding. He went from being in a slight crouch to straightening his spine in surprise. I’m sure he didn’t expect to find a woman in black, theatrically dressed for her own funeral. I started so as not to make it anymore awkward.

“Welcome to my death,” I said in a cheery tone.

He spluttered, which seemed awfully unprofessional for a hitman. “What are you doing?”

His tone was accusatory and not at all what he should be asking me. I took another drag before I responded. “Waiting for you. You were asked to kill me, were you not?”

He scoffed and I was almost more offended over that, than his little hit job. He turned on the light so he could see me in my full glory, I imagine.

“Okaaay, but you do realise how unusual it is to find a victim dressed and ready? Surely, I’m not the crazy one here.” He said it with too much sass for my liking.

“I don’t know who on earth you think you are, coming into my house to kill me, then talking to me like that!” I might have accidentally gotten angry.

Fire was blazing through my blood and it took an enormous effort to centre myself.

“Are you done?” He asked, unperturbed.

Oh, he had cheek! I looked at his face, that he had so thoughtfully covered up with a balaclava. He had a nice strong brow bone and pretty eyes. Too pretty to be killing, tsk tsk.

“What’s a nice man like you doing killing for hire? Cause with a body like that,” I whistled. “You could fetch a nice price doing some other things.”

This time he couldn’t contain his incredulity. He started laughing. Not that release of gaiety but laughter at the absurdity. It’s at this point I realised he was holding a hammer in the other hand.

“A hammer, really? Oh, that’s actually so messy. You didn’t think I deserved more than that?” I asked with fake concern.

He was wheezing at this point. His laughter was annoyingly infectious because I found myself grinning. I always told Clover I was the funniest in our girl gang. I’ll be saving this to throw in her face later.

“Okay, whatever you’re about, I don’t even need this money. I’ll return it.” He wiped away a tear and steadied himself on his knees to catch his breath. “What are you?”

“I’m older than your tiny mind can even conceive of,” I said wryly. Taking another drag of my joint.