The beginin'

As far as I remember, blood always had this color…this red wich turn into black. An awful black, the black of the creepy death…the black of the pain…the black of…black of blood. Mine is dry on my cheek. Like if the scar is not enough…I need to bleed !

And I’m here in front of this stupid dirty motel mirror, saying to myself : « Putain de merde, je suis trop conne ! ». Oh, yeah, I forgot : I’m french too !! A twenty two years old french murder girl with an open knife scar in the face.

People here think that french speaking and person are absolutly wonderful, class, sophisticate…I guess they never heard me speaks !

You know, i’m not so clumsy usually...I used to be the best killing machine of the organisation.

I’m a disease, it’s in my blue cold blood to kill…for live…

No, in fact, I kill for free…not exactly for free…for something like thirty thousand dollars the murder but my job is simple…a target, a touch, a dead and…jackpot !!! Money !!

Money makes the world go round, the world go round, the world go round…

 

At this point, I need some time to heal my pride and so I’ll search in my memorie for knowing how can I finish here…I have so many questions to answer…

Let’s get started, if you please...but I must tell you that how could I arrive here, in this motel in the middle of the united states with a bleeding hand and cheek, walking on my lazzy feet will be my last answer !!