Inner Demons in the Mind

She closed her eyes, focusing in on her target while letting everything else around her fade into the back ground.

She took a deep, steady breathe, and she was in.

She watched him reach into his suit pocket for his card, tap the machine on the counter, then return his card loosely to his pocket. She watched as he starred at the cups of hot lattés, demanding a tray from the young, petite barista behind the counter, then shaking his head impatiently as she handed it to him.

He expected everything to be done for him abruptly and without question. He hated the obvious things that most people should already know. He shouldn't have to explain such petty, time wasting tasks such as a coffee tray when he clearly ordered two coffees.

"Put the coffees in the tray!!" He exclaimed loudly, drawing attention from the morning patrons sitting along the counter.

The barista, obviously new at her job could sence his impatience and with a shaky hand, placed both cups into the tray, spilling one slightly as she did. She looked up to watch his reaction, as he glared down at her rudely.

"Maybe this isn't the right job for you, huh?" He sneered at her before ripping the tray from her hands, turning away from the counter and hasitly exited the trendy coffee shop.

The woman who was watching him, noticed how he threw the door open, and how he carried his annoyance with him as he walked the short block from the coffee shop to his place of work. She could sence how that brief moment had set the tone for his day, and she knew that the interns and secretary would certainly pay the price with his attitude and frustration. Unfortunately, they were used to that by now.

"Good morning Mr. Burton!" The cheerful woman behind the lobby desk on the main floor of the massive high rise office building threw him a wave as he rushed past her.

He pretended not to hear her, swiping his key card at the secure gate, then pushed his way through towards the elevators.

He rode the elevator all the way to the second last floor, and when the elevator bell chimed, the doors opened and he entered the large office space. It was a rush of activity, and the woman watching him felt his mood lift slightly. Busy people on the phones, rushing from office to office, back and forth to the fax machines and printers meant that deals were being made and more money was ultimately going into his pockets. It had been a slow month, so he was happy to see that his lesser thans were finally doing their jobs properly. Nonetheless, he ignored all of them and crossed the office floor until he finally reached his enormous corner room office. He slammed the door behind him, and shut all the blinds on the floor to ceiling windows that allowed him to watch his employees whenever he saw fit.

He sat in his desk, and the woman watched him reach into the lower desk drawer to pull out a bottle of 15 year old scotch. He removed the lid of one of the coffees, and poured a generous amount into the cup. He glanced at his watch and he took a long sip from the drink. 9:03 am his Rolex displayed. This irritated him and brought his mind back once again, to the barista at the coffee shop. Her stupidity had thrown his morning routine off by 3 minutes. He hated when his routine was off.

The woman watching him, took a long, deep breath and pulled out from him. She had been watching his day to day life for 3 weeks now, there was nothing useful or important that she would gain from wasting hours of time and energy at this point. She also knew that she had been watching him long enough to know that today was the day that would be his last. Tonight he would die.

**

The woman drew the blinds shut of her bedroom, and sat down on the bed. She glanced at her cell phone. It was 8:55 pm. She knew that in precisely 5 minutes, the man would rise from his office desk, and begin his decent down the elevator to the main floor of the building as he began his journey home. He was truly a despicable and dispiriting man. All of his money and power had ravaged any sort of heart he once may of had, and left him emptied and void of empathy or emotion. His heart was literally black with hatred and greed. This made her not feel so bad about taking his life as she justified that she would he doing the world a great justice by removing him from it. And maybe that was true, but she was still a murderer, a hired hitman. Her greatest powers that set her apart from everybody else, was the fact that she could not only read minds, she could literally enter them, become one with another person. At first she thought that all she could do was watch them from inside of their minds, but she soon realised as her powers grew, that she could manipulate certain parts of their bodies, and eventually, take over them entirely, fully controlling every part of them. That made her extremely powerful.

What she didn't know, until much later when it was too late, was that there were others with highly sensitive psychic powers, like hers. Everytime she tapped into her gift, she was sensed by people with similar powers who were working for very bad people. Kind of like a psychic radar. She had no way of knowing that, how could she of? She had believed that she was alone in her ability. She cursed herself now for being so naive, so careless. Once the others had sensed her growing and her capabilities greatly expanding, far surpassing any other known to them, she was like a fish in a small bucket, easy prey, and she didn't even see them coming.

When they came for her, they had pictures of her family, her two daughters and her husband. Pictures at school, ballet lessons, at the park playing with friends. They knew everything about her and her family and they used all of it as leverage to force her into exploiting her magnificent powers for their benefit and personal gain. What choice did she have? If she didn't oblige, she risked her entire family being murdered. If she did agree, then it was her who would become the murderer. It had not taken her long to decide. She loved her family more than anything, and like any good mother and wife, would stop at nothing to keep them safe. They paid her well for her deeds, but no amount of money could truly rid her from the guilt she carried from taking people's lives. Although it had become easier to detach herself from her victims over time, it was still a heavy burden that she wore.

She laid down on her bed, and closed her eyes. She didn't need a picture or a personal belonging to enter someone's mind, like the others required to do so. All she needed was a name and she was in.

She took a deep, steady breath, and was zoned in on her target once more.

She watched him exit the elevator to the main floor lobby. He was drunk as usual, which would make gaining control much simpler. He walked out into the crisp, fall night air, and turned left to head towards the parking garage. Once he was a half a block away from his office, she began to manipulate his body. She began by tensing his leg muscles, so that it felt like spasms. He stopped to rub his upper thigh, when the muscles in his back and arms became rigid and unmovable. His first thought was that he was having a stroke, and immediately attempted to call out for help. She envisioned her hands wrapping tightly around his vocal chords, so when he tried to speak, a mere hoarse whisper was the result. She directed his body to walk stiffly to an area outside of the parking garage that was isolated and quiet. She was surprised at how much he was resisting her control. He was much stronger than she had anticipated he would be, being so drunk after all. It didn't matter though, he still didn't stand a chance.

Once he was entirely out of street view of any random passerbys, she started to put pressure on his lungs. Every time he exhaled, she was like a constrictor, tightening her lethal grip on him. At the same time she did that, she envisioned holding his heart within her hands, and squeezing it so tightly that it might burst and become nothing more than a mangled heap of bloody pulp. She felt his struggle lessen as his strength began to wane. She counted to 3, and right at the moment that his lifeless body began to collapse into a heap on the ground, she pulled out from him and was back in the safety of her own room.

Her heart was racing, beads of sweat were pouring profusely from her forehead and underarms. Her breath was laboured and shallow. She gave herself a moment to collect her composure, then reached for the phone.

After dialing a quick number, a man's voice picked up immediately, grunting an acknowledgement on the other end of the line.

"Congratations Mr. Chen. You are now the most powerful real estate broker in New York City." She spoke dryly and sarcastically.

He didn't say anything. He rarely ever did. He just let out a sick, haunting sound that she presumed was meant to be laughter, but resembled more of the sound a hyena makes upon taking down its kill.

She shuddered, and clicked the phone off.

It was barely a few minutes later when her phone illuminated with a text message.

"MARISSA GATWICK, L.A. CALIFORNIA" was all the message read.

The woman let out a high pitched scream, throwing the phone towards the window.

Marissa Gatwick in L. A. California was someone she knew. And knew very well.

It was after all, her sister.