Confessions of an Assassin

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Hello people of the United States of America. My alias is KXV but my parents named me Jonathan Baker. This will be my first and last article. I am writing this column fully aware that within mere hours of its publication, I will, without a doubt, be murdered. This is not a joke, neither is it fiction.
I am writing this to expose an organization within your very government. This organization has no name, and its members are composed of those that are legally dead. Like myself. This organization dedicates itself to assassinating those that speak out against the government, to keep the illusion of safety and majority approval. The country you live in is not nearly as safe as you think. Freedom of speech is a lie. Most of the deaths that we arrange are made to look like suicides, or accidents.
This organization was founded in 1977, by Director Thompson of the F.B.I along with Vice-president Mondale under the President’s supervision, and has grown from one private assassin, to over 2,000,000 assassins stationed throughout the country, pretending to lead normal lives. Our headquarters is located in a small town in Delaware called Ardencroft.
It is strange to be able to type this on paper, to actually be honest for once. There is always so much deception in what we do. I’ve contemplated fleeing the country on so many occasions, but in the organization’s history, no deserters have ever lived. So I accept my fate and I confess to the murders of 103 people, whose names are listed at the end of the article. Among them are senators, F.B.I agents, fellow assassins, mayors, doctors, lawyers, professors, parents, witnesses, or anyone that may have become a problem later on.
Change can be painful, but it is necessary for growth. By making you all aware of us, I am perhaps saving thousands of people who can bring about a positive change, and through that, help the growth of this nation.
Now, to seal my death, I am going to explain, in detail, my most recent assassination. The target’s name was Eve Walker. She was a radio talks person that some might consider to be a conspiracy theorist. She claimed that the government was laying off the people that didn’t support the war. Of course, nobody believed her, but she had suddenly become a target.
She lived right on the corner of 34th Street and Brondsworth Boulevard. I watched her from the apartment across the street and studied her behavior for about a month before I killed her. I also memorized the route she took to work every morning. I noted how often she received visits and who these people were and where they lived.
I soon realized that she always had a quiet evening every Friday night to herself, after her 2 hour specials. I figured it would be the opportune time to kill her.
So on Friday the 15th of March; about 30 minutes before the end of her broadcast, I made my way into her house.
I had a home made lock picking kit that consisted of a gel-like substance that I squeezed out of the container and into the keyhole. Within seconds, the gel solidified in the shape of the inside of the keyhole. I then inserted a small sharp metal pin into the crystallized gel and jiggled it around a bit and the lock clicked open.
I opened her front door and snuck into her apartment silently, sticking to the walls. Her apartment was quite spacious, with odd paintings and sculptures all over the place. Everywhere I turned, there was another abstract face looking at me through awkward shapes and colors. As I walked swiftly through her apartment I was counting my steps and learning the turns in the hallway, in case I had to escape in the dark.
I surveyed the apartment for a matter of minutes before I found a decent ambush spot. It was a coat closet about halfway down her main hallway. Before creeping inside I went over into her kitchen and into her fridge. I pulled out her half drunken bottle of wine and opened it up. I poured in the contents of a lethal amount of concentrated arsenic. Then I smoothly returned the bottle to its place in the fridge and entered the closet to wait for her to get home.
A little while later two people staggered into the house door, clutching at each other for support. The female giggled and said she usually locks the door, but must’ve forgotten tonight. The husky man she was holding onto was sober and dressed in a navy blue uniform.
Crap! He’s a cop! I thought with a grimace. Eve Walker was dressed in a black dress and the cop was holding a sweater that she probably wore at the beginning of the night. After sitting Eve down on a sofa in the living room, the cop began making his way towards my location, sweater in hand. The reason I chose this place as a hiding spot because it was empty, she never used it as an actual closet, but the cop didn’t know that. When he got about a foot away from the door of the closet, Eve mumbled something about balloons. The moment the cop turned his head away from me and the closet, I flung the door open and thrust a concealed dagger upwards in the fleshy spot under his chin. Blood gushed out all over my face and clothes, showering me in his disgusting, sticky, warm insides.
I would rather not relate the killing of the actual target however, because of the awful nature of her demise. That is not what is important, I have killed many people. What is important is what exactly got me to write this, to get the courage to defend what is right even if it means giving up my life.
After I killed the target, and I confirmed both of their deaths. I also confirmed that he was a cop by looking at his badge. But I also found something else among his personal effects. A little black box. And upon opening it up, I found a little diamond ring. An engagement ring. He was going to propose to her. That night. And I murdered them both. They were in love. Maybe, in doing what I do, and in being so wrapped up in myself and in my own doubts, I had forgotten that people fall in love… maybe I had forgotten that I was in love once too. I don’t care what happens to me anymore, I need to redeem myself, and help rebuild this nation that I have thus far been getting so good at destroying.
The morning after this article is published; the sun will shine on a new nation. A better nation. And hopefully, reader, you can help it shine on a better world.





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