Your girlfriend is a serial killer who has been at large for years. You found out one day upon walking into her apartment and seeing her at work. You never help her with her hobby or express any signs of discomfort when with her and that just baffles her. You just don’t care about it.

“I killed him.”

“That’s nice dear.”

He was sat on the couch, engrossed in another marathon gaming session.

“He fought back, unlike that last guy. Real nasty biter.”

She held her arm out appreciatively, a red mark fading just below the elbow.

“You had a tetanus shot?”

“Of course.”

“Okay then.”

“I had to pull the teeth so they can’t do a dental match.”

“Uh uh.”

“He’s in a tub now, dissolving. Should be nothing left but a soup by tomorrow.”

“Are we having soup tonight?”

“No, I. Put that down.” She stood in front of the screen. “What is wrong with you?”

“Nothing. Are you tired? Are you on your…”

“No,” she nearly screamed, snatching up a power cord and wrapping it around her fist. “Three years. Three years we’ve been going out.”

“Oh god,” he muttered. “I forgot our anniversary.”

“What? No. Ever since you walked in on me and Tom.”

“Who’s Tom?”

“Tom was the guy I was strangling when you first met me. Don’t you remember?”

He shrugged nonchalantly. She grabbed his arm and pulled him into the bedroom. A heavy black duffel, buried in the back of the closet, contents spilling out as she rolled it across the bed. Knives and axes, tasers and tweezers.

“I kill people Greg. I’ve killed a lot of people.”

“Yeah, but…”

“What? What?!” she demanded, snatching up a particularly wicked looking blade.

“Well, my dad always told me if you’re good at something, why do it for free?”

She stared at him confused. He hugged her tightly, releasing the blade from her fingers and setting it back amongst its brothers. He led her to the closet and slid open the back.

“How? What? When?” she asked. She picked up a small calibre pistol, feeling the weight in her hands. The hidey hole contained an assortment of rifles, pistols, even a bazooka.

“You were a contract. A target. But when I saw you, with your arms around that guy and the sweat on your brow, I just fell in love.”

“You were going to kill me?” she asked.

“And I didn’t mind you carrying on. I know you do your best.”

“My best?”

“I keep a watch on you, honest. I just always wish you’d…”

“What?”

“Well, go pro.”

“Greg,” she said, grabbing his hand.

“Yes?”

“Let’s do one together.”


Prompt originally posted by Gravitiaxis on reddit and received 85 upvotes.

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