I stared down at the blood on my hands. “Oh no.” I mutter as I feel the color drain from my face. “I killed the wrong person.”

Thomas barrels into the room, his black hair flopping over his pale face. He stared down at the old lady, her blood pooling on the floor. “You shot the target’s grandmother!”

“I didn’t mean to!” I whine, feeling the tears surface. “She started asking questions about why I was in her granddaughters room, and so I shot her.” I could feel the real meaning settle into me.

Thomas rubs a tired hand over his face. “God, Elijah.” He crouched over the grandmother. “This is the second time.”

“I know, and I’m sorry.” I say, ripping the white glove’s splattered with blood off my hands. “I didn’t mean to, I swear.”

“It’s fine. I’ll take care of it.” Thomas takes the stained gloves from my hands. “Go back downstairs to the party, act like nothing happened.”

I nodded, and quickly darted downstairs, ignoring the sickening feeling in my stomach.