“I swear murder wasn’t on my agenda today,” I said disapprovingly, staring at the dead body on the checkerboard flooring. I snuck a look at Jay. He looks like he was in shock, his mouth wide open, his eyes blown wide. 

“It isn’t on anyone’s agenda Meghan,” Jay managed to say, sounding like a mouse trying not to make a sound, afraid if a cat is near, waiting for the right time to strike. 

I slowly looked back at him, gun in my hand, and responded in all seriousness. “It was on mine, but Tuesday, not Friday.” I guess that’s not what you’re supposed to say in these situations by the look Jay gave me. But what can I say, when you kill people for a living, these situations become repetitive?

Finally out of the shock stage, Jay finally managed to say, “Meg, Why do you have a gun? How do you know how to shoot like that?” Jay’s eyes got bigger and bigger, face redder and redder, and his voice rising higher and higher as he continued. “He was directly behind me! Are you a serial killer? Wait; don’t answer that!” 

“No Jay! There are only two bodies, it takes three to be considered ‘serial,’” I interrupted him jokingly. But Jay seemed to have different views on the idea and continued to ask more and more questions. I have to find a solution to this three-bodied-problem, but Jay is going to be a nuisance in every route I take. If I don’t think quickly, more people who want me to “disappear” are going to hear Jay and find us. What do I have? I have a Bowie knife in my boot, a couple of .45 rounds in my bra, and an AMT Hardballer in my hand. I can hear Jay slowly getting louder almost in a shout and his arms flailing around like a toddler who didn’t get the candy bar he wanted. Think. Meghan. Think. You are a trained Assassin! This shouldn’t be hard. 

“Why would you, wait, what are you doieoifsdnlkgrnvd,” Jay gurgled. Ok, maybe a chokehold wasn’t the best idea for this situation, but I am running out of time. But now it's time for the real problem, getting Jay out of here and fixing the dead-people problem. I could barely lift Jay off the floor, but I managed to get him into the passenger seat in his black Honda Civic, parked in the nearby parking lot. When I went into the abandoned twenty-four-hour diner, I mapped out the scene. There are two bodies sprawled in the center of the room and a body, Jay’s roommate Jeff,  in the apartment building nearby. I can make the two dead people in the diner look like they killed each other, but I will have to frame one of them for the murder of Jeff. 

As the night continued, I managed to drive to my house and pick up cash, passports, and my supply bag before midnight struck. Jay has a gym in the trunk, so I didnt have to pick up anything for him. In a matter of six to eight hours, we can drive to a new state and be out of the police’s sight. But the real question is, what state is the safest? Definitely Florida, with all of the illegal stuff going on down there, we can manage to blend in until this tides over. For the next several hours, my only company was the passing scenery passing by me and the sucky Mariah Carey tunes in the CD player. 

By the time Jay woke up, he had bruises on the left side of his face and a scrape above his eye. The sun was just coming up that alluded to the Georgia scenery which cascaded in a warm glow. 

“What happened,” Jay murmured gravely, scaring me slightly. “Why does everything hurt?” His voice was rougher like he has never used it before. 

“Good morning sleeping beauty,” I said humorously. “How was your nap?” I was dreading the conversation that was bound to happen. How am I going to explain this to him? The gunshots and the blood?

My thoughts were bluntly interrupted by Jay shaking me gently and him saying “Meg! Meghan! Did I ask you a question? Are you there?”

“Physically I’m here, but mentally? That’s debatable!” I responded, trying to avert the oncoming questions in a different direction. 

“Haha. Very funny Meg.” He responded sarcastically. “Now, what happened last night?” His tone was stern and he had no emotion on his face. He must still be somewhere in the stages of shock if he can’t remember last night. 

“If I tell you what happened, are you going to keep your mouth shut?” I questioned. 

“Of course you can. I am your best friend Meg.” Jay sounded sincere, but also as though he wanted to sound convincing. 

“Fine I will tell you, but I promise I didn't warn you! We were eating supper, taken out from Olive Garden, and were playing Cards Against Muggles when we heard the gunshot and the hard thud. I told you to be silent and to lock yourself in the bathroom, but with you being so stubborn, you refused. I had to bring you with me, so I pulled out my Hardballer and round the corner. Standing there in the kitchen, were two men with tattoos, and your roommate, Jeff, was on the floor, a bullet in his head. Quick question though, who in the world names their kid Jeff?” I said, pausing the story, “The name Jeff just screams ‘I wanna be punched in the face!’

“Meg!” Interrupts Jay, “Back to the story! Please!”

“Ok, Ok! Anyway, while Jeff was on the floor ‘unconscious’ surrounded by blood and you, being the wimp you are, decided to scream bloody murder. The two strangers noticed right away and started shooting at us. One bullet almost hit you, but I pulled you just in time. The impacted wood shot up and hit you in the face, and cut open your eyebrow. Through the waves of bullets, we managed to get out of the house and into the broken down diner next door. I told you to hide in a booth, which this time you listened to, and I would take care of the two strangers. I barely made it behind the counter when the first guy came in. He had tattoos up his neck and a leather jacket to cover the ones on his arms. He didnt notice you, but he slowly walked deeper into the diner. Before he could get to the counter, I managed to reside a bullet into his chest, alerting the other guy of my whereabouts.”

“As he burst through the door, you came into his sights. He ripped you from the booth and placed his gun to your head. He had sleeves of snakes and skulls up his arms to the side of his face. Without wasting another second, I decided to shoot him. He fell and you went into shock, so I had to knock you out. I took care of the bodies, and we drove off. We are just about to hit the Florida border.” I finished and we sunk into silence. Jay looked like he was going to throw up his supper. His face was pale and pained while his body was tense and stuck up. 

“How did you know how to do that Meg?” Jay managed to get out, “You're an accountant! What are you?” His breath was ragged and he was sweating profusely. 

“Jay this going to be hard to hear,” I started, heart quickening and hands clammy, “I’m. I’m a contract killer.”

“A WHAT?” Jay screamed.

“I’m an assassin Jay, an assassin.”