"Would you do this for me?" you ask. Stupid question, Milady. You know I'd do anything for you.
Now you hesitate. "If you don't want to... I understand. You don't have to kill again. And it's dangerous."
"I have killed for you before." I am kneeling.
You kiss me softly. "Thank you. If anything goes wrong, I'll be there. You can count on me."
"Milady."
And so I walk away. My victims know nothing. Yet.

I kill. Should I feel sorry for them? They are human beings. But I don't feel sorry. Milady asked this from me and I obey her.
They are dead now.
How am I going to get away?
Bullets pierce my flesh. These burning marks!
Milady!
Help me!
Where are you? I hardly stand. I can't defend myself.
Milady!
Why can't you come?
I must jump. And so I do.
The pavement is hard.

I don't know who took my bleeding, limp body. I don't know who tied my wounds and splinted my broken bones.
But it wasn't you.
Why, Milady?