WRITING CONTEST 2023 remix

Instructions

I remember everything. The terror on the faces of my victims, pleading for help. I never showed mercy. If I did, I would be killed. And whether I liked it or not, I needed to put my job in front of everything else. I was hired by the president himself to eliminate anyone who did him wrong, and no, it was not optional. If I refused, my little sister died. And there was no way I was going to be the reason my only family left would die. Did you really expect otherwise? Working for the president, I had to listen to everything he said. Many people think I was the reason the purge started, and all I can say to those people is, I'm sorry. All I know is that I have more blood on my hands than I would like. --------------------------------------------------------- I stepped inside to the wafting aroma of mom's homemade chocolate chip cookies. Of course, it wasn't mom, but Hope. My sister. "I'm home!" I called into the hallway leading to the kitchen. "Lara! I missed you!" Hope said, running up to me with a plate of fresh cookies in her hand. "How was work? Wanna cookie?" She asked. "Work was terrible, as always. And yes, i would love a cookie." I said grabbing a fresh cookie off the plate. Hope's face stiffened. "Another M-30?" She asked. "Yeah," We give codes to everything at the Whitehouse. M-30 just means murder mission with no witnesses. As always. Hope knows about my job. She knows everything about the codes, the assignments, and all of my top-secret files. By now she memorized the Whitehouse blueprint. Hope doesn't have much to do considering stepping outside means your putting yourself in danger of being killed, another thing that's my fault. Despite all the struggles of life nowadays, Hope is always, well, hopeful. And smart. She is the most brilliant person I know. Put math in front of her, 2 seconds later shell be done. And a computer? Forget about it. Yes. I'm a proud big sister of a self-taught hacker. Hope only uses those antique computers though. You know, the ones they used back in the day... "They're called Chromebooks." She always tells me. "They are portable and so old that no one really tracks them, so I can do whatever I want and no one, not even the government would know. " I always found this really impressive. Not only can she hack, but she already knows how to not get caught. Not bad. "Oh, Lara, by the way, you got mail." "You were on my computer?" I asked angrily. "No, calm down. You got real mail. On paper." "Oh..." I opened the letter, and I see that there are only a few words. "We can stop them. For real this time. Under magic tree at 5 on Wednesday. -Clara" "Hope...." "Yeah?" "It's from Clara." "W-What? How? Clara was- she d- That's impossible." "No. It's her handwriting. She's alive, and still wants to take over the government." "Oh my god... Wait, what did she want from us?" Asked Hope. I looked up from the paper in my shaking hands. "She wants us to help her." Clara always wanted to take over the government - to fix our world. Make it, dare I say it, safe. She rioted, protested, and started campaigns that would have been successful if people weren't scared to join them. Last year, the FBI figured out Clara's identity and captured her. She was killed - or at least I thought she was. This was right before I was hired to be a hitman. Kill one sister, and threaten to kill the other one. How humane. So what do you do when you get a note from your sister that you thought had been dead for a year? Well, I weighed the options. The government could have sent this to trap us for whatever reason, or it could really be her, which I doubt. The thing that throws me off is "Magic tree." This was our treehouse that we played in as kids and only Hope, Clara and I know about it. WEDNESDAY It's 5 o'clock and I find myself walking towards my childhood sanctuary-Magic tree. I finally arrive, kind of wishing I had brought Hope. I hate to admit it, but I was a bit scared. I finally see the tall oak, hidden behind the abandoned garage that hasn't yet been torn down. I creep behind the garage and that's when I hear it. A faint whistle. Our secret call. I whistle my verse back, and as I do, I see a dark figure come out from the shadows.