[SP] every time you kill someone, their fatal wound shows up as a scar on your body.
*****
Baltimore.
The flight there was uneventful - planes are such a boring means of transportation normally, probably because all one could see was clouds for hours - but mainly because I was thinking about the events of the previous day.
Of course, Terry had died. I didn't confirm what the cause of death was, because I knew that the news was going to do that for me anyway and because I knew that from that moment, I was on demon time. Sooner or later, the police were bound to suspect that there was a conspiracy at play, and it wasn't just an accident. After all, his dashcam was nowhere to be found.
It wouldn't be long before they put two and two together and they realized that it was suspicious that he was found dead and the one person with whom he had a little friction at the gym was nowhere to be found. And there would surely be one or two dumb eyewitnesses that had spotted us in the car.
At least I had some prosthetics to throw them off, and I had gotten a haircut, dyed my hair, and changed my look with a few different prosthetics before hopping on the plane.
As I thought about the past eight months, I realized that what started as an ordinary, seemingly inconsequential curse quickly spun out of control and became a nightmare for me. There was no peace for me since then, and I literally had to stay on my tiptoes to survive.
I opened the news and looked. Surely, the developing story was the car that had been found in the ravine. The identity of the person had not been made public which meant that the police either did not know or had just found out and were yet to make a press conference to that effect. I didn't notice any scar on my body, which meant that Terry Dahl didn't die from any of the injuries he must have sustained during the rocky descent and crash. He must have died from drowning.
That was much to my benefit because if he had died from an injury, that would be yet another scar, and a big one at that, to worry about.
I was still idly scanning through the news, reading a few headlines when I spotted something that made me do a doubletake. Sally Worthington had opened a GoFundMe after battling with Breast Cancer for the last five months,
Sally Worthington.
Something felt oddly familiar about that name, and the more I thought about it, the more the events of the past eight months began to flash through my head. And then I remembered it: the Encrochat conversation and the 'job' that had put me in this mess. If I remembered correctly, her name was Big Sally, or at least Sandra and I got to know her by that name.
What were the odds that she was the very person I was looking at on the screen of my phone... bald, and in a vegetative state.
Breast Cancer.
Something struck me as odd. Sally already had quite a substantial amount of money, as she did pay me 25 thousand dollars for that job, and then she also got the inheritac=nce which she was after. Why did she need a GoFundMe then? What happened to all the wealth?
As I read on, I understood why that was the case. Apparently, barely a week after securing the inheritance, she was diagnosed with Stage 3 cancer: Stage 3B to be precise. The survival rate in the US was 26%, and she spent a lot on treatments.
Two months later, she was declared cancer-free, but that didn't last for too long. After a month, she noticed painful lumps in her breasts and went for a checkup, where it was discovered that she had Stage 3C cancer.
From there, it was just a continuous journey downhill for her as she kept getting worse and worse by the day.
She needed about a million dollars for surgery and other treatments.
I stared at her GoFundMe page for a while, thinking about how it was her that sent me down this tunnel, thus dark tunnel which she was also journeying through at the moment. And even if there was indeed a light at the end of it, it was almost certain that Sally Worthington wouldn't be seeing it.
"...The Inheritance is already cursed, so it will bring Sally nothing but pain and sorrow."
Sandra did say that. I sighed as I tapped the link and donated a thousand dollars for the sake of her surgery. There was no way she was going to survive. Sandra's curse still Stood, and if the movies I had watched were anything to go by, her vengeful spirit existed to make sure of that.
I already had my plate full, and I had to make moves to ensure that I would not go down a similar path of destruction because of the curse. If it took having to go spiritual, I would. Sally never knew about the curse, so she kept on looking for remedies that would not address the root cause of the problem.
I would lay off the job for a year. No more assassinations. In the meantime, I would have to think of how I was going to lift the curse before things got messy.
*****
TO BE CONTINUED.
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