The last nine years have been a nightmare. At first, it wasn’t so bad. My aunt and uncle came to the hospital to collect me after they got the news about my parents’ death.
They were my only living relatives and unless they wanted me to end up in foster care, they had to take me in.
I was just five years old and didn’t understand what was happening. All I knew was that my mom and dad were gone and I’d never see them again. How does a five-year-old even begin to comprehend that?
When Uncle David and Aunt Sherry arrived at the hospital, I ran into their arms. I’d only met them a few times, but I knew they were family. Aunt Sherry wrapped me in a comforting hug.
They were there for me until I turned six. Then everything changed.
It was as if a switch had been flipped in their heads and they transformed into different people. They became cold and cruel.
I was plagued by nightmares of the car crash, of losing my parents, of that terrible day. I couldn’t help it—my mind kept replaying it over and over.
It wouldn’t stop, and I sought comfort from my aunt and uncle.
One night, I went into their room, like I always did, because I had a nightmare. I needed their comfort, but it wasn’t there when I walked into their room.
That was the day my life changed forever. I was put into training with other kids my age. We were left outside for days, even weeks at a time.
We went without food or water for hours on end. We were taught how to fight, how to suppress our emotions, how to become a killer. As I grew older, the training intensified.
Each year, they made things harder. We would run miles at a time, be forced to find our way home after being dropped off in the middle of nowhere.
If we got caught in one of the traps they had set, we would be punished. Those punishments were brutal. Lashes for each trap we fell into, no food for a week.
The girls had to shave their heads, the boys had to run laps around the compound after each lashing.
And if we didn’t meet our mark, we were strung up from a tree naked. We would be left there for hours, sometimes days.
Today marked the day I transitioned from training to getting my own target. I was fourteen now, so my training was over.
In this family, you only train until you’re fourteen and then you’re on your own. The only advice they give you is not to die, because if you die, you’re on your own.
No one will come for your body, and no one will give you a second thought. I’m scared, I’m terrified, but I can’t let it show. I have to suppress my emotions.
I can’t be Maci right now; I have to be Shadow Angel.
The only good thing about my time here was my cousin Justin. He’s my best friend. He’s more like a brother to me than a cousin.
He’s been there for me through everything. When I was scared, he was there, knowing that I couldn’t let anyone see my fear.
I had to keep my emotions in check during training, but it wasn’t easy. I’m not a monster, and I’m certainly not a killer.
But that’s about to change because I’m getting my first target. This means I’m on my own, and I’ll be leaving tonight.
When I get to my room, I see a folder on my bed. This is it, time to grow up, time to make my first kill. I’m not sure how I feel about this.
The emotionless part of me is thrilled, but the part of me that still feels doesn’t want to do this. But what choice do I have? It’s either do the job or die.
I’m not ready to die yet. I’ll get out someday. I just don’t know when that day will come, but I hope it’s sooner rather than later.
I sit on my bed and open the folder. My target is a fifty-year-old man. He’s wanted for unpaid debts.
He borrowed a hundred thousand from our family and never made a payment, so they’re taking the payment with his life. He’s unmarried with no children.
Thank goodness for that because I don’t think I could kill a woman and children. I don’t even think I can kill him, but I know I have to. It’s him or me, and I choose me in this scenario.
I let out a deep sigh, place the open file on my bed and just stare at it. Doubt starts to creep in. Would it be so bad to just let them kill me? Do I really want to live this life?
A life of being controlled and forced to become a killer, to take another life? I went through all the training, but this is different. I didn’t take a life during training.
Sure, we lost some kids who weren’t strong enough to survive, but I didn’t personally take their lives. Starvation, dehydration, and abuse did that.
“Ah, good, you’ve looked at the file. Get that memorized before you leave for Dubai. If you fuck this up, Maci, I will personally kill you myself. You leave in an hour.”
My uncle exits my room before I can even respond. He has a habit of doing that—just barging in, saying his piece, and then leaving without a backward glance.
That’s how he’s been ever since I was forced to “grow up and get over it.” What fourteen-year-old is prepared to take a life? Happy fucking birthday to me.
I’ve spent the last hour poring over this file. I think I’ve committed every detail to memory, but I can still review it on the plane. I grab my duffel bag and head for the front door.
“Good luck, Maci. I know you don’t want to do this, but it’s either you or him. I’d rather have you here with me—you’re my only friend.”
I glance at Justin, trying to keep the tears from spilling over.
“Don’t let them fall. You know what happens when they do. It’s time to call on Shadow Angel. You’ve got this, baby cousin. It’ll be over before you know it.”
I nod at him and step out the door.
The flight to Dubai is spent studying the file, absorbing every detail that might help me. He works a nine-to-five job, five days a week.
He frequents the local strip club on Saturday nights. On Sundays, he golfs with some work buddies. He’s a predictable old man.
He seems to be doing well for himself, so I don’t understand why he borrowed money, or why he can’t pay it back. What was he thinking?
It’s not my job to figure out why, but I can’t help but be curious. My job is to eliminate the target.
The closer we get, the harder I try to shut everything out and become Shadow Angel. I have a feeling she’s going to be my downfall one of these days.
Over the next week, I observe Mr. Roman Juarez. I watch him make eyes at women who are clearly out of his league. I watch him at work.
For someone who stole from a powerful family, he doesn’t seem concerned. I’ve watched him at home, on the street, at his office—everywhere—and he hasn’t noticed a thing.
He’s either clueless or arrogant. My money’s on the latter. He’s a chauvinistic pig who thinks he’s God’s gift to women.
I don’t feel the slightest bit guilty about what I’m about to do to him.
I head back to my hotel room to plan. Once I have my plan, I take a nap. I need to be rested. He looks like he could put up a fight.
I let sleep take over before doubts and worries can creep in. I can’t afford to second-guess myself or I’ll back out, and it’ll be my life on the line.
My alarm wakes me at nine o’clock. I get up and pull on my leggings and a black long-sleeved shirt. Who says you can’t be comfortable while you’re taking someone out?
It’s a grim thought, but given my current situation, it seems like dark thoughts are all I’ll be having for a while. It’s the only way I’ll survive this.
I park my rental car a few blocks away from my target’s house and get out. Quietly, I make my way to his home, sticking to the shadows.
They named me Shadow Angel because they wanted to train me to be the Angel of Death, but in the shadows. They taught me how to be invisible.
Even when there are no shadows, I can slip in and out of places without being seen—unless I want to be seen.
I get into his house without a hitch. The arrogant fool didn’t even lock his door or set his security system.
It’s time to shut everything down. No feelings, just an empty shell. A body without a soul. That’s what I need to be if I want to get this done.
I know if I don’t, I’ll back out. I don’t want to face the punishment for failure. I’ve seen it—the beatings.
They beat you to within an inch of your life, but keep you just barely alive. They make an example out of those who fail. I don’t want to be one of those examples.
As I ascend the stairs, I hear more than one voice. This isn’t part of his usual routine. He was supposed to be alone, like he is every other night.
I wasn’t expecting to have to kill two people. I stop and steady my nerves. If I don’t get them under control, I’ll mess this up. I can’t let that happen.
Why can’t I just shut everything down? It seems so easy for everyone else. Taking a deep breath, I steel myself. Time to step up, Shadow Angel.
I can feel the moment everything switches. My mind blocks out all the other thoughts. There’s nothing but the mission.
Now, I’m revising my plan. I can’t let his guest go. She’ll know too much. I could just knock her out, but word would get back to my uncle, and I’d be punished.
With one last breath, I enter his room.
The voices were moans. I’ve never seen people having sex before, but even I can tell she’s faking it, unless she’s really that loud, which I highly doubt.
I stand there and watch as he flips her onto her hands and knees and enters her from behind, pulling her hair, making her scream louder. It’s time to end this, no more stalling.
I pull the blade from the waistband of my leggings and move toward them on silent feet. I need to take him out first—he’s the stronger one. She’ll be easier to handle.
Once I reach the bed, I take the blade and slice it across his carotid artery. He’ll bleed out quickly. The woman starts to panic as she notices the blood covering her.
The man crumples to the floor, his eyes losing their spark. The woman tries to get up, but I’m quicker. I swipe the blade across her throat before she can even let out a scream. My task is complete.
I silently exit the house, making my way back to my rental car. Once I’m safely inside, I let the reality of what I’ve done wash over me. I’ve just taken two lives.
I’m not a monster. I’m not a murderer.
I pull out my phone and dial Justin’s number. He’s the only one who can understand what I’m going through.
“Hello?”
“I’m sorry for calling so late, but I needed to talk to you.” I manage to choke out the words through my tears. “I-I did it. I-I killed two p-people, Justin.”
“It’s your first time, Maci. I wish you didn’t have to do this, but it’s our reality. It’ll get easier, I promise. Just breathe with me.”
I follow his breathing rhythm and slowly start to regain my composure.
“Wait, two people? I thought you only had one target.”
“He wasn’t alone. There was a woman with him. I couldn’t let her live. I couldn’t risk her going to the cops. I just couldn’t.”
“Sometimes, that’s how it goes. You made the right decision, Maci. Now, you need to call Dad and let him know it’s done. Then, you need to come home. You’ve done what you had to do, now it’s time to move on.”
I end the call with him and dial my uncle’s number. He instructs me to come home, assuring me that the plane will be ready by the time I reach the airport.
Thankfully, they taught us how to drive during our training. I can’t imagine having to walk everywhere.
I’m going to be trapped in this life for a long time. I have a sinking feeling that I’m going to lose myself along the way. I don’t want to, but do I really have a choice?
No. I was thrust into this life when my parents died. Why couldn’t I have just died with them in the accident? Death would have been a kinder fate than becoming a killer.
