My own assassin

Chapter one continued.

Roland went back home to his father and confirmed he had hit his mark. Once in his father’s study he spoke to him. “There is only one left, father. Old man Clemott is dead.”

Lile looked up from his chair, without moving his head. His glasses slid down his nose a bit. He puffed from his large imported cigar. Smoke billowed out from his mouth and nostrils. “Good job.” He puffed it again, sitting back in his reclining, rocking office chair. He sniffed, and pushed his glasses up, into the crevice where they should have been. His cigar came crashing down into the crystal ash try on the desk. The smoke whirred about the room. He sniffed again. “Tell me son,” he paused and looked him in the eyes. “Is this last one a female?”

Roland creased his brows. He eyed his father wondering what the assignment would consist of. “Yes father.” He answered.

Lile made a grumbling sound and fidgeted with his desk drawer. A smirk came to his lips as he thought. He shook his head as if affirming his plan with himself. “Marry her.”

Roland jumped back. “What?!” He didn’t want to seem disrespectful to his position, but that was ludicrous! “I can’t do that!” He stammered for the right words. “I just finished off her family! You want me to marry her!! We don’t even know her!!” He shoved his fingers through his hair and let his hand rest on his head. “No disrespect, father, this isn’t a job, it’s my life.” He shook his head no and stood his ground.

Lile stood. “Is it all getting to ya son?” he seemed concerned. “You would just be sick with yourself.” He sarcastically added and laughed.

“I can’t just kill her whole family and then make her mine.”

“You’re weak!” He leaned down and pounded a fist on his desk. “We are not weak! Be a man!” Lile relit his cigar and sat back down. “You are a man, aren’t you?”

Roland glared at his father. “Yes. I am a man.”

“Are you weak? Are you as weak as a female? Or, are you MY son?” Lile demanded an answer.

“I’m your son. I am not weak.” Roland cautiously answered. He was trying to come to gripping terms with what was happening.

“If you can’t’ do it, and you would rather become my daughter, just let me know, huh.” Lile sat down and picked up his newspaper.

Roland unconsciously placed his hands over his manhood, knowing all too well what his father meant. “Dad. This isn’t right. I couldn’t live with myself. “

Lile read a few lines, ignoring his son’s refusal. He did notice him protecting his groin, though. He breathed out the thick puff of smoke from his newly lit cigar. He glanced at Roland again. “Be a f*****g man! Marry her. If you can’t live with it, fine. Then you can kill yourself. But you will do as I say.” He placed a .44 Magnum on the desk from his drawer. He looked him in the eye. “Dismissed.”

Roland turned to leave the room. A mocking, “Sleep on it,” followed him. -Marry her! Indeed! How is someone supposed to have a Clemott marry a Derossa? It’s predation. Damn. Might as well lock her in a cage, and force a priest to sign a paper. - Roland’s thoughts were all over the place. - Clemott, ugh. They wouldn’t even know which was the prey until the end, to see who was left breathing. -

He had seen what he had done to her. He watched her as she cradled her father’s head and hands. He had also heard her say something about revenge. The grief had rolled across her beautiful features. He scoffed. -The rain. Of course, it rains when she’s sad. Just like a damn movie! How was he supposed to do this? Walk up and say, “I’m sorry I killed your entire family, let’s get married and fix it!”- He laughed to himself. -What a f***ing joke. -

-It's not like I had a choice. I was just following orders. It’s not like it was personal to me. If I didn’t kill them then my father would kill me. Would she believe that? - He threw himself onto his bed. -There isn’t a way to do this. And what about love? His father didn’t know how. - Roland wanted more. -Why did he have to throw his life away and marry who his father wanted?!-

“Because he’ll take my p***s or my life, if I don’t.” he said to his pillow. He shoved his face under his pillows and blankets and screamed into them. “F*** me!”