Grey Kingston

I pick the lock of a random apartment. Judging by the doormat and the decorations I saw on the balcony, it’s a young woman who lives alone. I shut the door quietly. I freeze when I hear the soft noise coming from the TV. I press my back against the wall in the entry, peering into the living room. I creep up behind the couch quietly. I swiftly cup my palm over her mouth, my knife going to her neck. Make a sound and that’ll be the last thing to come from that pretty little mouth of yours.