With the bathroom door slightly ajar, I watched as both stood, ahead, near the bedroom threshold looking down at the pile of two dead bodies that remained on the floor.

Marco and his sister were exact opposites in every regard. He was the youngest, she, the oldest. He had dark hair and brown eyes, while Camilla rocked blond locks with her, dramatically done, smoky, blue eyes. From head-to-toe, based on appearances, they did not look like siblings—but them two, certainly, did act like it.

"Oh God," Camilla spoke as she covered her nose with the palm of her left hand. "How did they get in this time?"

Even though it has been about an hour or so, the once metallic-like stench of spilled blood had begun to morph into something more wretched, a familiar hint of moistened rot.

"Security." Marco simply noted as he pushed his sister gently aside to take an in-depth look at the damage. Like cigarette smokers, his nose, just like mine, became immune to the stenches due to our previous exposure. A blessing in disguise.

"Again?" She pondered in confusion while lowering her hand, "Fuck, that's twice this week, Mark. You're not killing him, why?"

Creeping in closer, I listened further into the conversation—curious about Marco's reply.

"Because" I observed Marco walking further into the bedroom, examining the body more closely. He crouched down near the young boy he gunned down earlier, "he's the only connection we have between all the shooters."

Baiting the shark, mostly done with drug and weapons dealers. Waiting and watching—sometimes weeks, even months on end, until the dealers, unknowingly, lead people to the supplier. A well-known police tactic that only works forty-six percent of the time.

"We gotta make him believe we don't have any suspicion."

"Okay, fine, don't kill him," Camilla noted sarcastically as she strode backward a few steps into the hallway. "At least interrogate his ass. Get some intel on this shit. It's fucking ridiculous."

Marco quickly did something with his hands over the boy's head. "I need real answers, Cam. Not fear-induced ramblings."

"At what price?" His sister's tone changed dramatically as she lost all means to argue with her brother, "This is the fifth time, Marco. All it takes is one-"

"Sixth." He interrupted her.

"Excuse me?"

Marco pointed to the older male I shot, laying across on the other side of the bedroom. "That guy over there is five," he stood up from his position, continuing to look down and the dead boy, "This one is six."

"Sixth," She noted with hesitant exasperation. "You're not Clint, fucking, Eastwood, Mark. They will send more next time."

More? Why more?

One, maybe two, at a time is a fair hit on someone; but sending more indicates a malevolent nature. A publicized massacre. I shoved the bathroom door open fully, making my appearance known.

"Camilla's right, Marco." I underestimated the original intent, someone doesn't just want Marco dead —they want him to suffer, to be humiliated. This is not a kill for power or gain. This is a kill for revenge.

They both immediately looked up, and Camilla's eyebrows shriveled in confusion. "Rebecca?"

"Hey Cam," I acknowledged her questionable doubt with a slight one-sided smile.

"I thought you were-?" She quickly turned to face Marco and whispered, "Damn girl..."

Marco shook his head in sarcastic amusement. Word had probably spread about my time in solitary, but no one knew the extent of my imprisonment. Going from a size fourteen to an extremely thinner version is a bit of a visual shock. I'm personally still trying to get used to it, let alone other people.

"It's good to see you too, " I wittily spoke as I walked near the dead body on the floor.

Looking down I noticed Marco closed the boy's eyelids. Out of respect, maybe? Or was it his guilt kicking in? My eyes then veered to the gun with the makeshift silencer that was still on the floor, Who makes their own silencers?

"Sorry, Becca...it's just..." Camilla struggled to find her words. "Wow."

"Yeah, I know." I looked up with a smile to ease her embarrassment, "I'm a sexy Christian Bale." Noting his extreme weight loss for the main role in 'The Machinist.' I carefully lunged over the boy's body, meeting the other two on the same side.

"No joke," Marco truthfully blurted out as he led his hand to help me over. He, clearly, was still mad about the whole imprisonment situation.

Standing side-by-side, we watched Camilla struggle with her words. "I'm sorry, Becca." She noted with disappointment, "I didn't...I don't think any of the clothes I bought will fit."

"Wait." We all immediately looked at Marco as he spoke. "You bought the clothes? I thought I told Mina to grab the stuff."

Her eyes squinted as she gave Marco a look of advance.

"And Mina called me," she spoke. "Honestly, Marco, she has twin toddlers to handle. Do you really think she has time to go shopping? She barely makes the time to shower. Geez."

The brief exchange between the two siblings has already shown me the plethora I have missed within these six months. Mina, the married, middle daughter of Angelo, was the one person I envied the most. Her clear determination and charismatic nature are what allowed her to abandon the family name and start a new chapter with a loving husband, and children of her own. Of only seeing her from old family albums, and hearing stories from the others —the idea of this one sibling leaving it all behind brought me hope for Marco.

Marco gave me a knowing smirk, almost as if he had read my mind on Camilla's idea of style.

"The clothes, Cam," he purposely reverted the tangent, "is there anything you got that Rebecca could wear now—at least for the day?"

"Yeah," I added. "It's kinda hard for me to walk around in a towel all day long."

"Maybe..." While most people grabbed their chin as they thought, Camilla grabbed and smashed her lower lip together using her thumb and pointer finger. She unclenched her lip after a few moments, "I did buy a few maxi dresses. They will be big, but...I guess...I mean...they are meant to be loose anyway. We can always tie a belt around your waistline or something."

"You're right," acknowledging her perspective. "I can do that." I just wanted something-anything other than winter sweaters and Marco's t-shirts.

"Yeah," she nodded to my agreement. "I also got some clogs that should match well. You're still a size eight, right?"

"I believe so," I unknowingly replied.

"Good," Camilla dug her hand into her purse and pulled out a pair of keys. "I'll go to the car and grab the stuff."

"You want me to get them?" Marco politely gestured.

"What do clogs look like, Mark?" She purposely questioned.

"They're heels, right?"

"Yeah," she then gave me a look of amusement. "I'll grab the clothes," Camilla replied as she turned and walked towards the foyer.

We watched as she opened and walked out the front door. "Be back here in five," Marco yelled at her, into the hallway, before closing the front apartment door.

"Since when is Camilla right?" He questioned as soon as he locked the top bolt on the door. "She's never right. Everything about Camilla is wrong."

I answered honestly as soon as he turned around, "Since I know what it's like to lose a brother." Camilla is finally owning up and playing the role of a big sister. "She's concerned and has the right to be."

I began walking back towards the bedroom, speaking as he followed behind me.

"Camilla, concerned?" He blatantly noted as we both stopped right as the threshold divided the hallway and the bedroom of horrors. "I've been doing this much longer than her most recent start-up—it's second nature now."

"I'm not saying you don't know what you're doing," I encouraged his ego a bit. "Just be careful, that's all." One, maybe two, assassins he can handle...but more? This must stop. "That fear you had earlier about me dying or getting hurt," I stroked my right hand against his stubble, "those are the same feelings I have about you." I leaned in closer and gave him a soft, gentle kiss. "I can't lose you either."

"You won't," he said as I pushed away. " I promise."

"Good, then take your sister's advice," I acknowledged.

"Fine," he noted with slight hesitation.

"I'm sorry, what was that?" I jokingly noted. "My ears aren't accustomed to polite Marco."

"I'll text the guys."

I gave him another kiss—more so, a small thank you. "I'd start with those silencers. They're too unique to miss. Someone's gotta know something."

"Good eye," he immediately pulled out a cell phone from his front pocket, "but I want you and Camilla gone. Go shopping, see a movie —anywhere, but here."

"And miss the fun," I always loved a good interrogation, especially the messy ones, "c'mon baby."

"No. I don't want you involved. I don't want you anywhere near this shit."

"I'm already near it, fuck," I pointed toward the older gentleman, dead on the ground. "This is technically my mess." 

"I was mine before it became yours."

As much as I wanted to stay, I'd figure this was the perfect time to run errands of my own. "Fine, Cam and I will go. But when we get back, you and I are gonna finish the talk we had earlier. Margaritas in South America, consider it."