Deal Gone Wrong- A psychological thriller about survival, silence, and power.

He stared at the gun the way people stare at oncoming headlights. The alley smelled like piss and some sort of dead animal. Standing at about 5 feet tall his body was trembling as he stood there explaining the situation he had gotten himself in.

"Relax," I told him. My voice was soft. "If I wanted you dead, you'd be dead."

That was a lie. I was going to kill him if he fucked up like this again, but killing him tonight was not in my plans.

He swallowed hard. The sound carried. Fear always does.

I hated this part--not the threat, not the gun--but the moment right before a person gave up who they thought they were. You could see the fear on his face, the panic in his eyes, his ego folding in like wet paper.

"You're good." I said.

"I swear I was gonna make it right," he said. "I just needed more time."

Time...Everyone ask for time like it was mine to give.

Behind him, the fire escape rattled in the wind. Somewhere above us, a window slammed shut. People pretended they were minding their business.

I stepped closer. He flinched. "You know what "time" cost?" I asked.

"Money and unwanted attention." People get careless and make mistakes--Mistakes I do not need." I said to him.

He was young, younger than I expected. He was not ready for this lifestyle.

I lowered my gun just enough to make him feel safe.

"Please," he whispered. "I can fix this. I'm not like them! I'm not---" He stopped; he looked me in my face. "I'm sorry," he said. He then noticed who I was.

"Holy shit," he said. "You're from...,"

I replied, "yeah, that's me."

The name hit me like someone had slapped me.

My real name.

The one I had not heard in years. "Don't say it" I told him.

But he was already geeked, excitement now overtaking his fear.

"I knew it," he said. "You're that girl, off Terry Road. My cousin lives over that way. Everyone talked about---"

I shot him.

The shot was loud , the sound echoing through the alley. He went down hard, a surprised look frozen on his face, blood flowing dark and fast through his white shirt. He did not scream. He didn't have time to.

I stood there longer than I should have, gun warm in my hand, breath steady.

I crouched down to check for a pulse. There wasn't one.

"Damn." I said to myself.

As I stood up, my phone buzzed.

One message.

"Is it handled?"

I stared at the body once more before typing back..."What's good?" Then I walked away.

That night, I could barely sleep. I kept seeing the young man's face I killed, dreaming of my hometown, my life there.

I hate that place.

People think you leave places behind when you move far away.

They were wrong.