What came next, Lilith hadn't expected.

To some, that may seem ordinary. After all, there are many things in life that appear out of the blue. A surprise engagement. A sudden death. An unplanned pregnancy or unforeseen illness.

However, to gain a reputation such as Lilith Passmore's when working in the field of assassination, one had to erase the idea of unexpectedness. Everything had to be planned for. Every possible scenario had to be carefully considered and walked through. The cops showed up? Lilith had it covered. Ulwich managed to escape? No big deal. But this was unexpected, and it was the sheer unexpectedness of it that caught her off guard, rather than the action itself.

Instead of Ulwich striding through the door, it was Sanders. Or more importantly, Sanders with a gun.

The first bullet burned through her left arm as Lilith leapt out of the way. The hot, blazing fire ate away at her veins as she slammed her entire body into the stomach of Kevin Sanders before he could shoot again. A million thoughts screamed inside her mind as they both went down. Why? What? How?

The gun slid to the corner of the room. Now it was just the two of them, with her straddling Sanders. Perhaps realising his mistake, Sanders began to shriek. Blood dripped down her left arm onto his convulsing chest, slippery and wet.

Lilith pressed the rope that was supposed to be used on Ulwich against Sanders' neck, hard. The rough nylon fibres sunk their teeth into the soft, fat flesh, biting and gnawing relentlessly. Kevin choked, spittle flying from his gasping lips, as his grubby fingers did their best to shove, slap, and push Lilith out of the way.

She didn't move. She couldn't. Her eyes bore into his, burning.

"Why?" She knew full well that he wouldn't be able to answer, but she asked anyway. "Why? Everything was fine. I had it planned - everything. Why'd you have to..."

Her voice trailed off when Lilith realised that Kevin Sanders' body had suddenly gone limp underneath her. Still, she kept the rope pressed tightly to his neck, waiting to make sure that every speck of life had been squeezed out of him. As she waited, she became more and more aware of the gentle, trickling river of red that now practically bathed her left arm.

She stood, wobbling, and swallowed hard. Her fingers loosened around the piece of rope.

Before her, Kevin Sanders lay dead, splattered in her own blood from a gun that was hiding somewhere underneath one of the couches. Outside, she could hear voices. Ulwich was on his way. And there was no doubt that someone outside had heard the commotion.

It was a mess, and it was one that she didn't have time to clean.

Usually, in preparation for a hit, Lilith would've brought cleaning supplies with her. Bleach, water, soap, plastic. In most cases, it was plastic. She would lay a large, clear sheet on the ground, and lie in wait for her target to appear. That way, when she pulled the trigger, the blood and brains would splatter onto the plastic sheet instead of getting on the floor. There. Simple. The act of removing corpses was an art, one that Lilith prided herself in excelling. When she left a hit, nothing would be out of place.

This time, she didn't have the luxury of time. A strangling was supposed to be rather mess-free, but the bullet that slashed through her arm had changed all that. She had bandaged the wound tightly in cloth that she had found in the room, which stemmed the bleeding, but the damage had already been done.

Blood stained the carpet floor and the body lying on top of it.

Leaving the room felt wrong, as if she was committing an atrocity that she couldn't stop. The thought of the chaos she had left behind for the world to see made her sick to her stomach. The lights of the hallway smirked and snarled at her from above as she hurried away from Mark Ulwich's dressing room. Her bloodied arm was hidden underneath the faux fur scarf draped around it.

Only when she had made it to the main hall did she realise that she'd forgotten her shoes.

It was too late to go back now. Lilith swallowed, lifted her head, and walked cooly and calmly into the crowd. Into her death. The marble floor felt deliciously cold on her bare feet.

Her eyes stayed glued on the exit as she weaved her way through the masses, never wavering, never faltering. Snippets of conversations floated by her before dispersing, like smoke, into the atmosphere. Cameras flashed. Reporters pushed past each other in order to shove their microphones into a celebrity's face.

Lilith kept walking. Anyone could be invisible if they tried hard enough.

Towards the left, two guards in blue began making their way through the pulsating crowd towards Ulwich's dressing room. Lilith saw them, ignored them, and began muttering 'excuse me' and 'sorry, coming through'. Someone bumped into her injured arm, and she bit down hard on her tongue in order to keep from screaming. The taste of iron blossomed in her throat.

She kept moving.

A security guard that was watching over the influx of people entering listened to a command relayed over his walkie talkie. Lilith watched his face pale as she passed him. As she fought against her instincts to burst into a sprint towards her car, she heard him yell to the mob still attempting to enter, "I'm sorry, the avenue is closed. There's been an emergency."

A great roar of disappointment went up, followed by cries of "But I have tickets!" and various colorful profanities.

With her one good arm, Lilith grabbed her car keys from her purse and unlocked her car. The Mercedes let out a joyous beep beep, as if it were glad that she hadn't been killed yet. It was only when she stuck her key in the ignition and pulled out of the parking lot did she allow herself to let out one, short-lived scream of frustration.

Outside, rain began to fall.

If only the droplets could cleanse her mistakes.