She was dreaming again.
It seemed rather strange that she continued to have the same sorts of dreams over and over again. She would break into a gun safe in one house, a secret room in another. And, without fail, she always retrieved what she had gone there to get.
It seemed as though not even the highest quality, best gun safes could stand up against her burglary skills. Her tools and expertise rendered the safe completely useless, much to the owner’s dismay.
After making her escape with whatever thing she was instructed to take from the safe or storage space, this time it was a few documents that were supposedly important, she would always follow the same path and meet the same shadowy man in dark clothing.
They made the exchange wordlessly, as though they had done it many times previously. The girl’s dreaming consciousness almost seemed to watch the situation from above, curious as to what was going on and why this strange and mysterious man was constantly in her dreams.
The two of them walked in different directions, listlessly walking in the night until the other was out of sight. The girl made directly for a car she had apparently stashed before the job had begun and drove off to the safe location.
Back to Reality
Shortly after her dream self got in the car, the girl always woke up, trying desperately to come back into the life she knew out of the one she didn’t seem to understand.
What she didn’t know was that she was being controlled in her sleep.
I, the mysterious figure from her dream, having known her from when she was just a child, know her so well that I have become able to manipulate her mind and her actions, but only while she is asleep. This became especially useful when I started this little burglary set up with the pawn shop owner in town. I was making myself untraceable by using her as my agent, and I always have a fence to sell the goods to.
Her parents had died while she was still very young, and they had asked me, her father’s brother, if I would take her in the event of an accident. Having agreed, I started thinking of ways that I could eliminate the two of them so I could further my experiments on the small girl in peace.
For Christmas one year, I gave the two of them tickets to Italy. Though they thanked me for my generosity involving the tickets and volunteering to watch their little baby, I had planted an assassin in the hotel that I had booked for them. At least they had the time of their lives before it was shot to pieces.
The girl knows nothing about the exact way her parents died. She is still under the impression that there was some accident after they had been mistaken for foreign political leaders. It was the same story that I had leaked to the Italian press.
In the meantime, I’ll keep up the ruse. After all, I have created the perfect criminal.
By Kassandra Konecny