The Assassin

... The Assassin The assassin waited patiently at the dirty shattered window of the six storey hotel. She stood at the east facing window of the second floor, her wet black hair casting a shadow across her lifeless face. A bead of sweat rolled lazily down her forehead and dropped down onto the damp stained carpet. Her fingers lingered around the ice cold trigger of her deadly weapon. She broke into the room wearing blue jeans and a deep black polo neck jumper. On top of the polo neck she wore a black puffer jacket, her hair and cloths wet from the rain outside. In her steady hands, she held a well polished, smooth, long black case holding her partner which would take away the need for revenge for the tragedy that happened to her family. She found a desert eagle on the rickety splintered dressing table and a bullet proof jacket

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