Bleeding newbie poster
Posts: 6
Location: Canada
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I just wrote this and wanted to share it. Let me know what you think...
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I sometimes wonder if maybe I should get a real job. A career or something like it. I don’t mind what I do now but the risks are getting too heavy. I mean, the risk and the fear, the danger of it all was what drew me here in the first place, and now it’s pushing me away. This one could’ve made it; I could see it in her eyes. Now she’ll never get the chance, and for whatever reason I don’t even feel ashamed. I know it was my fault, I know that it’s me to blame. But I don’t care, I don’t mind at all. I was just doing my job. What defines a job anyway? If it’s something someone does in order to get paid than this is fine with me. Does it have to be legal? What’s wrong with under the table? What’s wrong with taking the life of another? Last week I thought I was crying for the first time since the first time. It turned out I was just standing under a leak in the roof, and the water was not my tears at all. I still remember the first time clearly; I didn’t even want to do it. But what choice did I have? If you knew my situation you wouldn’t be thinking what you’re thinking right now, you wouldn’t think of me as a sick and twisted being. I won’t get into that now, but believe me; I had to do it. The funny thing is (not that I find it at all humorous) that up until the actual event I was shaking all over. I had lost all sense, I just knew what the plan was and I went ahead with it. And when it was over I just stood there, and I could feel the smile creep onto my face. I had just done what most people had and never will do. I had just done what thousands of others are in jail for right now. And it felt right. Over the years I learned little things here and there from one job to the next. The biggest lesson I learned is that it doesn’t matter how close you are to someone, they might just hate you enough to want you dead. That’s why I don’t have many friends any more. Well, at least that’s the reason I tell myself every day of my life (if you can call it a life). This one here is heavier than she looked. Maybe I misjudged this whole scenario in general. What was that? I swear I just saw a flashing light. Must be nothing, I don’t hear anything. No footsteps, no sirens. I’m in the clear. Come on, get a grip, you’ve been doing this for four years now, almost to the day. Next Thursday will be the big anniversary. How will I celebrate? Oh I’m sure I’ll find a way. For now I have to finish this job. I swear I saw that light again. I’m just playing with myself, I’m safe, and no one can catch me here. No one rides the subway at this hour of the night, especially at this stop. I’ll just leave her at the bottom of this staircase to be found early in the morning. I love that part, the knowledge that in only a short period of time someone will be scarred for life because of what I’ve done. Actually more than just one person, the family too. And if she has friends, maybe a kid. I’ve always wanted to touch people’s lives and it seems this is the only way I can. Don’t feel sorry for me, feel sorry for yourself. I’m happy with my life. I like what I do. Now if I put her arm over here…good. That’s perfect. Another one in the bag. I don’t bother making that fancy exit anymore, it doesn’t thrill me as it used to. The stairs will do just fine. The second step is sticky, and now that it’s on the bottom of my shoe the rest are as well. Ouch. Did I just slip? Nope, there’s definitely someone on top of me. What the…? That flashing light again, this time I know I’m not making it up. No, I have to get up. But I can’t. Now my hands are stuck. What’s going on? Who are these people? Where are they taking me? What did I do wrong….?
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It's fiction, not a true story I assure you.
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