You are cursed, once you leave someone's sight they will forget you. Forget your very existence.

At first, it was fun, people forgetting your existence. You can commit any crime in the world and the people affected by it will forget what you look like. Gaining money like that was easy. Then it started to get boring, so what's a better way to get money? Becoming a hitman of course, I have no combat training or weapon training whatsoever. What I do have is a curse. A curse that is getting boring.

I entered my apartment and slammed the door behind me. Throwing my bloody coat to the side and heading towards my office. That was the one-hundredth victim that I killed and she didn't even do anything wrong. However, money is money. There was nothing to do now though, he has all the money he could want but nothing to do with it. Money is valueless if you can break in anywhere or steal anything then be forgotten right after. I tried everything and did everything that could be possible.

A notification appeared on my phone, and it was from Wattpad, something about gods. Gods? Am I a god? Can I convince everyone that I'm a god? No I can't that's not possible, shrugging that thought from his mind he went towards the door hearing knocking. It was a woman his age, she spoke having a warm smile.

"Are you Mr. Stevens?" The woman asked, gripping the bag tighter and reaching inside it.

"Yeah and who's asking?" I raised an eyebrow, looking down at the bag seeing a glint of a revolver.

"Hell, the demons want you back there, you monster." The woman dropped her bag and aimed the revolver and fired.

My eyes widened, and I dived out of the way, that's why he got the apartment for this reason. There was a nook where he can hide and lose eyesight easily. That's what he did, pausing, he let out a breath. Peaking his head out, the woman was still there and fired the gun again. Thankfully she missed so he shouted back, "What the hell! How come you didn't forget, what the hell are you?"

"You got lazy, Mr. Stephens." She got closer to where he last way as she sing-songed, aiming a pistol to where she assumed he was. He wasn't there, pouting, she banged the gun against the wall. "You thought everyone would forget you, I didn't. I remember what you did to me on that night and what you did to my family. I never forgot and I burned your face into my memory." The woman breathed in and out, "I can't remember or process anything, just know that I have to kill you."

I panicked, my heart racing hiding in my kitchen. Reaching into a cabinet, I grabbed a frying pan. Her footsteps was getting closer. Click, clack. She's in the small study, she knocked over a couple of things. I heard something break. Click, clack. She's in the dining room and knocked over more chairs. Click, clack. She's in the kitchen now, why do my sins have to catch up to me?

"I found you." She cheered and aimed her gun.

I raised my frying pan at the same time in a throwing position. Bang, clang.