“Fallen moonlight on her corpse. May angels follow through their promise made. The sin on skin. Be washed away.”

He takes a draw from his cigarette. The fresh body on the ground. They wanted a clean job. And thus he followed. All and all she was beautiful. However her beauty lay within youth more over her view. Her hair was messy brown. Her skin a flat tan. Her curves were nice enough though. Yet he wasn’t here to gloat. This girl had been a victim of society. A wealthy heir. to wealthy. Sadly so on her part. Drugs would have killed her. Yet he beat them to it.
He didn’t mind this though. It was his job. Not the girl her fault. Not the men who paid him. It was just meant to be. And he had followed them…

He blew the grey smoke into the dreary midnight air, a gust of wind taking it away. He was careful not to leave any trace. He was a professional after all. However, it seemed that the longer he did this job the more he became mesmerised with the scene of the crime. The girl, how the moonlight played off her dirty skin. Her wide open eyes. Shimmering in shock. Her dress. How it was torn from restraint. Old scars littering her skin. Needle punctures. Scars of where she cut herself. Her lips lightly parted. As if she was to speak. And he found himself thinking about the things she would say. Or 'never' say.
He never staid past his visit. After al this wasn’t a social call. No, he merely came here to kill and leave.

Some people took it as a thrill. Killing them. spilling their blood along the streets. Be it innocent or not. And she certainly was not.
He wasn’t a religious man. Never had been. He found the mere thought of laying his trust in a fictional father figure laughable. And yet his belief in angels was strong. People would find him mad if they were to know of this. That an assassin. One of colder blood then the dead themselves believed in something as ridiculous as angels. Yet he couldn’t bring himself to care. From his early childhood moments he had believed in angels. Maybe not in the same way as the church would present them though. Little babies with small feathery wings. He scoffed at the mere thought. No, he saw angels as humans, light surrounding them. wings at their back. Eyes shooting silver stars. Nothing of nakedness. Though their beauty to pure of heart. And he imagined their blood to be silver too. Like their eyes it would shimmer within moonlight.

He threw the cigarette bud into the river. Hearing the sound of the cool streams always relaxed him, somehow. He had realized it one night, after killing a little baby girl. She was ten or so.
He looked at his hands, remembering the way he held her head under the surface of the water. Just enough to see her look of terror. It was almost sad, he had thought. And afterwards he cried. Not because he would miss her. Not because he knew her. Maybe because she had come with him so willingly. Maybe because it had been her own father who had sentenced her to die this way.
But afterwards he closed his eyes. The only sound being that of the water streaming alongside him. Cooling his senses. And he would stand and simple walk home numb to anything else.

He knew of men who had started killing themselves through doing this job. But this wasn’t a job for the weak of heart. It was all about the stamina. The ability to look at someone and see the person you need to kill. Don’t feel pity for them. But if you must, await the hands of death to tear them away. Afterwards you can feel pity for them. cry for them. Say your own goodbyes. But only then.
He took out another cigarette. He knew of men whom would let their victims go. Maybe within their mind they thought it was a way to do what was right. Despicable. Who were they to decide right from wrong? He shook his head at them, glancing over the girl again. He leaned over and brushed a lost lock behind her ear.

“All of the memories you take away, may they carry her back home. Where there wont be any pain anymore. Where she may fly away. And feel like she is worth more.”

And he stands. Long hair swaying in an upset breeze. It is to rain soon. His eyes draw up and a white feather falls down. He smiles. “It seems I’ve broken another one.” And he shakes his head. Turning to leave the ally. For her mother to find her.
Turning back no more he smirks.

“Farewell Aleth Mea.” And he draws his hood over his face. Disappearing within shadow.

Fin