Chapter 25

.CHAPTER 25.

ZERO.

"What do you want to know." I grunted out as I stared at the ceiling.

I heard her intake of breath and she didn't hesitate to answer beside me. "Everything. Your childhood."

"I don't have much of that." I told her the damn truth.

"Tell me the little you had." Her voice was whispery soft and it fitted right in with the night.

I've never been a motherfucker that liked talking about himself, even Morris doesn't know much shit, but with her I don't find it irritable.

I began. “When I was a kid, my dad was the number one contractor for the bosses in Philly and Boston. He’d get a call, disappear for a few days, then show back up—most of the time, flush with cash."

She turned her head the slightest bit, listening.

“I never had a mother. When I was little, I never knew people had those anyway, it was just Pops and I. When I was ten and realised that people had those, I asked Pops and he told me all about her."

"What was she like? What happened to her?" She asked curiously.

"Don't know much shit, honey. Pops told me how a woman showed up one morning with a baby at his doorsteps, telling him the baby is his and dumping the baby basket down on his fucking laps. Pops remembered the woman as the whore he favored last year."

Her eyes widened to saucers and a new gentle light entered her eyes.

I looked away from her and tried to remember more. Haven't thought about shit like this in a long time and so the damn memory is fvcking blurred.

"Pops was a killer. A big feared contract killer and he doesn't know shit about parenting, but it was just he and I when I was doing the growing up thing. I grew up not having a name." I stated matter-of-factly.

"W-What?"

"Don't have a real name and shits like that. When Pops asked my mother my name, she said I don't have one but Pops is free to give me one. Pops never got around the damn thing."

"B-But how did people call you...? What did they address you as...?" She sounded confused.

I gave a dry chuckle. "People don't address me, doll. No one got close because the whole damn town knows and fears my father. The only motherfvckers who ever say worth shit to me was Pops dealers and fellow killers. They call Pops.... Number Ten, and called me Nameless."

"Number Ten? Why?" She asked softly.

"When I asked Pops, he'd given me a dry smile and told me that he earned the name when he was ambushed by ten professional killers sent to kill him and he killed them all. Pops was so damn professional." I couldn't keep the pride from my voice.

She sensed it. "You love your father." She whispered in understanding.

What's with people and that word..... 'Love'?

I spared her a glance. "I don't know shit about that word but I had a fondness for Pops, I was pretty cool with him. Growing up, I adored and worshipped him like every young lad does his father."

"When I was eleven, Pops took a fondness for one of the vagiπas he fucked then, and Pops fucked a lot of them vagiπas too. It's the first time he---"

I paused when I saw she's having a hard time following my words, the confusion and her heated cheeks.

"Your words...." She spoke so miserably and pleadingly.

I pursed my lips. I've never met a person like her in all my existence, and I wonder how the hell I'm supposed to clean out a damn dirty tongue when crude words and obscenities are almost second nature to me.

If it's another motherfvcker, I would have told the bitch to go fvck herself and continue with life, but with her I just can't. It's really obvious that the crude words disturb her and she's not being fake or pretentious.

So fvcking pure and so damn innocent.

I cleared my throat and tried my damn best to clean out my tongue. "Pops took a fondness for one whore when I was eleven, it's actually the first woman I saw Pops keep around for more than two weeks. But she shouted at Pops one day and I happened to hear her."

"What did she say?" She whispered.

.

"Said it's hard living with a killer and a nameless boy who was destined to follow the same path. And then, she'd turned and ran away from the house, almost pushed me down on the damn door while she was bolting. She never came back."

"You know, I half-expected Pops to shoot her down for even having the guts to shout at her because no one shouted at Pops. No one at all. But Pops just watched her leave, his face unreadable."

"Afterwards, it was just Pops and me as usual. I taught myself how to cook, took care of him and his wounds when he came home all banged up, and eventually became next in line to fill his shoes.” I paused, waiting for her to say something.

“Is he still around? Your dad?” She’d turned to face forward, her beautiful profile made for portraits. Fuck hell, I really want to bury myself deep inside of her.

Patience, I told myself. I tried to remember the question she asked.

“No.” I answered casually.

“I’m sorry.” She started to reach for my hand and I stiffened. She stopped and plastered her palm on her thigh. “May I ask what happened?”

“One night, we went on a job together. It was supposed to be fuc---freaking simple, a low-level hit on a snitch.” I replayed the night in my mind as I spoke.

“I was twenty-two, a killer in training. Pops hadn’t let me pull the trigger yet, even though I’d been with him on a handful of jobs. I told him I was ready, to give me a chance. Each time he’d say no, and I’d bitch about him holding me back."

"He’d say ‘If you start down this road, you’re committed to it, and second chances never come cheap.’”

I sighed, regret pressing the air from my lungs. “Now, of course, I realize he was trying to save me. Taking your first life…” I tried to find the words....

"Taking your first life, it stays with you and you can't forget shit about it” Her low voice trembled, and she finally faced me. “Can’t forget it.” I said at last.

Her hand reached out and tentatively touched mine then. She ignored the way I stiffened. I'm just not used to shits like that.

I shrugged and continued. “That night, we went on the job, and I was convinced Pops was going to let me take the guy the fuck out. But he didn’t. He told me to stay in the car, and then he said something I’ll never forget. ‘The first one is the hardest. It gets easier every time, Nameless. It numbs your soul until you don’t have one left, until killing a man is as automatic as breathing, as taking a piss. Because you’re hollow. Like me.’”

Pops haunted eyes, the clean cut of his trench coat, the smell of his aftershave, all came back to me vividly.

That tightness to my damn chest that always followed the thought of him came back too.

I rubbed my chest as I talked. “He died that night. The motherfvcking snitch got the drop on him. Popped him in the back of the head."

She squeezed my fingers. “I’m so sorry.” she whispered.

I don't understand why the fuck she'll be, but I kept my mouth shut.

“I heard the shot, knew it wasn’t from Pops gun. I ran inside, found him lying on the floor. There was this tightness to my fvcking chest at the very sight of Pops lying down there at the pull of his own blood."

I fixed her with a stare then, and my lips stretched into a small dry smile. "That c0cksucking snitch was my first kill.”

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