Aysha watched the man greedily search the boy's pockets for his credits. She had been that naive once, imagining that everyone had their credits in their pockets. Some of them kept the majority of it in a bank. Those who still kept it in their wallets were basically asking to be stolen from, but then again there was no way to know who did or didn't have it in their pockets or not. It was a guess. A risky guess. Trying to steal or kill the wrong person could land you in hot water.

Aysha wanted to confront the man on whether he was the one that killed her parents, but she knew that it was a risky move. Many people wore all black to cover themselves and protect their identities.

Aysha decided to take the risk. Even if he wasn't the one who had directly killed them, he could've been one of the man's associates or at least a person who had an idea of who it would be.

The man had frustratedly left the boy's body not wanting to break in from fear of being caught.

She grabbed his arm, desperate. "Please, wait."

He pulled his arm away from her roughly. "Whaddya want?"

"Please, I was hoping if you knew anything about the man that killed my parents. I have to know who he was. The night he came, he was dressed in all black and had a black gait as well. After he was done killing my parents, he had about two associates dressed in the same outfit come in. Do you have any idea of who could've done that?"

To her dismay, the man simply laughed in her face. "I've killed lotsa people. Who knows, maybe it was me."

He let out a hooting laugh and even though it was still in a joking manner, it still enraged Aysha. How dare he laugh about her parents' death?

She snatched the knife that had been hanging at the man's waist. The man was an irresponsible killer. He had a knife and could've silently killed the boy, but used the gun instead which could've brought attention toward the house- toward them. She tackled him, pushing him to the ground as she stabbed him in his neck. Blood gurgled up as she struggled to speak, flailing his arms wildly.

"It..it..."

Shut up.

"Wasn't..."

Shut up.

"Me..."

Shut up.

She'd stabbed his throat more than three times. The skin had been torn open in a gruesome manner as blood continued to trickle out. The man's eyes remained wide open in fear and shock of the unexpected attack. Aysha stood up and looked upon the sky. The sun's warm light bathed her ebony skin. Her hands were slick with blood that slowly dropped onto the grass below.

Drip, drop.

Drip, drop.

Drip, drop.

The blood fell to the grass in a tantalizing manner that made it hard for Aysha to pull away. She liked the feeling of knowing the man was trapped. The feeling of seeing her prey cornered knowing that it was hers to kill. The feeling that she, the hunter, had won.

It wasn't him.

A voice as smooth as silk whispered in her ear snapping her out of her trance. The voice was right. She had no true reason to kill him. He'd just been like everyone else and didn't understand how his words had hurt her. It wasn't his fault, but she'd still dove in like a savage animal ready to devour.

She could've controlled herself, but she didn't.

Aysha trudged toward the limo and saw the butler stepping out with a cloth. She took it from him and cleaned her arms before sliding in, hoping that nobody had seen what happened.

Aysha let her head rest on the window as she watched the houses pass by. She studied the knife that she'd taken from the man.

She could've left it with him, but she didn't.

Aysha reassured herself that it was imperative that she kept the knife, because her fingerprints were on it as well. It's what she repeated to herself over and over on the ride back to Craytia's home, but she knew that wasn't it.

She'd been cruel and she had liked it.