done woman

 Revolting. That was the only word going through her mind as she ripped out the liver of her latest victim. Brendice Tykes. She was one of X+Y's one-timers. You know, the ones that murder one person and suddenly think they're big shots for not getting caught? One of them. Throwing the organ into a nearby bucket filled with other unspeakable things, Lawliet allowed herself to stop for a minute. The smell, the sight, the sounds were all so disgusting. She rubbed her gloved hands together, giving her ears more noises to remember for the next week or two.
 As she rested, she heard quiet footsteps outside the door. As they passed, she thought of how nice it would be if he would take up her job for only a few minutes. Maybe then he would realize what she must do, and that he should give her a break. Kill him, kill her, kill them; he never has to do it, he just has to tell her to go do it for him. But could she ever refuse? He gave her so much, and she's given him so little.. It's not like the job bothered her too much, anyway. Still, she would always dream about her brother actually helping her do her job. She was brought out of her thoughts by the footsteps passing by once more, stopping outside her door. "I can smell it from here. I suggest using air freshener," a voice chuckled halfheartedly. Lawliet sighed, shaking her head at his words. "You don't know what this smells like. I'd rather face the facts than mask it with some Febreeze," she responded rather coldly. She could almost hear him shrug at her statement. The footsteps walked on. He was gone. It was time to get back to work.
 The next day, she sat alone on a three-person couch and flicked through numerous news channels. Finding the one she wanted, she relished in the words that came from the television: "Columbia killer still at large. New victim found late last night in alleyway dumpster completely disemboweled. Cops believe killer is moving fast to next city, say to stay inside and stay safe." A tired chuckle escaped her lips as she wrote down the words in a nearby notepad. "How can they stay safe," she spoke to no one, "if they don't even know where the damned murderer is?" Setting down the pencil, she decided to lay across the entire couch. It was her day off, after all. 'Might as well take a nap. It'll give time for someone to break in and kill me.' She fell asleep to a story of a deadly pile-up. Three dead, five seriously injured. More at twelve.