The Assassins obsession Just a kiss

*Bluey and Sandra's house* *morning* 7:55 AM

Bluey's point of view

"Come on, Bluey. How long will it take you to get ready? We are going to be late for class," I heard Sasha call from outside my door.

"I am coming, Sasha. Please give me a moment," I responded, attempting to manage my thick hair.

"Ugh," I muttered as the hair tie I was using slipped from my fingers and fell to the floor.

"You know what? I am leaving you as you are," I said to myself while gazing into the mirror.

I glanced around the room, picked up my book from the bed, and hurried out.

"At last! I thought you were taking an eternity in there," she remarked, looking at me.

"Wow, what is that you are wearing?" she continued with a hint of disbelief.

"What do you mean by 'what is that I am wearing?' It is, of course, clothing," I replied, rolling my eyes.

"Seriously, Bluey, I've told you to change the way you dress. I don't know why you love wearing baggy clothes every time. If I were the one with your perfect shape.......Everyone in school is going to get it from me," she said with a smile.

“I genuinely enjoy wearing these clothes, so I kindly request, Miss Sasha, that you allow me to dress as I choose,” I responded with a sigh.

“Regardless, Bluey, let us proceed. I would prefer to avoid any potential reprimands from Professor Shirley this morning,” she replied, taking my hand and leading me out of the house.

Sasha is my long-time best friend, roommate, and course mate. We embarked on our academic journey at Harvard together last year, and thus far, it has been a positive experience.

The residence we occupy belongs to Sasha’s aunt, who is currently abroad. She has graciously permitted us to stay there until we complete our studies, given its proximity to the college. Sasha,holds a special place in my heart.

.I developed a friendship with her during our high school years, and I must say, she has a lively personality that often leaves people questioning how we became friends. Allow me to introduce myself; my name is Bluey Johnson, and I am 21 years old.

I was raised in Australia by my single mother, along with my younger brother, Benny, who is 9 years old. At present, I am pursuing my studies at Harvard University.

."Taxi!" Sasha exclaimed as she flagged down a taxi.

"Please take us to Harvard University," she requested before getting into the vehicle, with me following closely behind.

"I believe we may arrive at class before Professor Shirley," she remarked while glancing at her wristwatch.

"Indeed, I hope so. I would prefer not to face her embarrassment again in front of our classmates," I responded, nervously biting my lower lip. The last occasion Sasha and I arrived late to class, she scolded us and mocked me, an experience that made me wish to disappear.

Although she is an attractive woman in her late thirties, her demeanor can be quite abrasive. I am uncertain as to why she harbors such strong dislike for me.

"Breaking news has emerged regarding a tragic incident that occurred last night. George Hilbert, the proprietor of Wander Foods, was discovered deceased this morning, with his heart removed from his chest. He had just returned from a business trip yesterday, and regrettably, it marked the final day of his life.

It has been confirmed that the perpetrator is none other than the Grim Reaper, as this aligns with his modus operandi. I can only contemplate how Mr. Hilbert's wife and children will react upon learning that their cherished husband and father is no longer with them.

"7Good morning to the citizens of the United States; I wish you a pleasant day and urge you to remain vigilant," were the words of the news anchor on the radio, and I could not help but feel a profound sadness for the family while also feeling a sense of unease.

"This individual has committed another heinous act. What drives such brutality? I wonder what they stand to gain from these actions," Sasha remarked with a furrowed brow.

"Moreover, he consistently extracts the hearts of his victims" I quietly added.

"He is truly despicable," I continued, only to be shushed by Sasha immediately.

“Please keep your voice down, Bluey. We cannot be certain that the taxi driver is indeed the Grim Reaper,” Sasha whispered, which only intensified my fear.

Since my arrival in this town, there have been numerous murders attributed to an individual known as the Grim Reaper.

This person reportedly kills his victims and removes their hearts, placing them close to the deceased. I find myself questioning his motives. His identity remains obscured, as he meticulously eliminates any evidence related to his crimes. Law enforcement and security officials have made substantial efforts to apprehend him, yet they have been unsuccessful.

There are whispers suggesting that he may have assistance from individuals in positions of power, although such claims remain unverified. The unsettling reality is that no one has seen him or knows what he looks like; there have been no photographic captures of him, which sometimes leads me to ponder whether he is akin to a ghost.

How could he remain undetected? I sincerely hope to never encounter him in my lifetime, I reflected, shaking my head.

"Thank you," Sasha said after handing the fare to the driver, and we exited the taxi.

"That was quite quick," she remarked as we made our way into the school.

"Every time I enter this school, it feels akin to stepping into a prison. Do you share that sentiment?" she inquired with a sigh, moving slowly.

"Come now, you feel that way because you have never enjoyed school in your life," I replied with a light laugh, resting my hand on her shoulder.

"Indeed, you say that because you are quite intelligent. If you were not, you would comprehend my perspective," she retorted with a playful hiss, which prompted me to laugh even more.

I did not mention to anyone, but I too possess a high level of intelligence and am among the top students in our department.

"Bluey!" came a voice from ahead, and we looked up to see Prescott waving at us with a broad smile.

"Oh, look, there is your admirer," Sasha remarked with an eye roll as we approached him.

“Come on, Sasha, I've told you like a million times—Prescott isn’t into me. He’s just a buddy, nothing beyond that,” I said as we reached him.