I was put up to the task to kill the leader, who had gone well beyond the agreement we had established with him. Of course, leaders do that. I’ve killed every problem we’ve had for the past six hundred twenty-two years, never without a good reason.

We aren’t that much of a threat, unless you mess up the good thing we have going on or kill without reason.

I slipped into his bedroom, crickets chirping outside the window that I had levitated to. I moved up near the sleeping man, watching the fits he slept in. I repressed a chuckle. He knew it was coming, and I was going to eliminate his anxiety, at the same time wreaking vengeance for the innocents he killed. I reached my hands out and put them over his chest. In moments, his heart stopped.

Upon reflection, I should’ve made him suffer more. But with suffering comes a lengthy death, and it gives him more time to scream for help. It had to stop then, and it did. I returned to my simple job as a seamstress, waiting for the next leader to violate our rules.