The Hitman

January 10, 2011
I shoot the lights out. I am a unholy ghost. My footsteps are the only Noise. My lips curled into a terrorising frown. The shape was like a red evil rainbow. My eyebrows flailed in hatred. Madness running into my red stained vains. I held the chair up high with vengeance. But sweat dripped low to the cold wood tile floor. If you were to look into my eyes you would see nothing but scorching fire. I breathed in with a huff. No regrets. I swing with major league power. It spins slowly. It cuts through the air like a knife I would rather use. The bottoms of the chair were my only hope. I am doom for anyone near. Its almost around. Consequences out of my mind. My knuckles straighten, my neck cracks. To forces hit. His eyes fade. My eyes stay open seeing the whole thing. His thoughts are gone. Red rain drops slowly drip to the ground. Sprinkling the white floor. But none from me. I replay the images in my head. My dreams are about this tonight. I hide the body under the bed and say my prayers even though, to god I am probably as dead as him. I run away from the room my darkest secrets lay there hidden. I climbed through the tarnished window. Looking back at my disaster, my catastrophe, my fault. I turn back. Seeeing the moonlight hit my face. The cold Seattle breeze hits me and goose bumps immediately appear. My feet feel the ground, rubbing the grass, the “living grass”.

I hear the sounds of sirens in the distance. But I’m not worried. All they know is someone’s dead - nothing more, nothing less. But still what feels like metal butterflies soar in my stomach. It’s that tingly feeling called nervousness. Nervousness was like my third language, behind anger and English. And I guess fourth would be greed. Money is what keeps me moving. I open up my frosted white car. No seatbelt - turn the engine on and go. Street signs fly past while I’m thinking where I should head to. Take the risk and go to my suburban home or hide in a vacant hotel, which I’ve done only twice before. As I say to myself every time. Because i have lack of experience hiding at those kind of places ill go home. My depression hits me like a bullet. The lifes I have put to misery. Iv killed kids parents and grandparents. Iv made them suffer. I deserve to suffer. I see frowns no smiles. It feels like I have never smiled. I feel dead I deserve to be dead. There is probably some part of hell they just put me in alone .

My mind comes back when I reach the house. I pile out of my car and silently reach my doorstep. The nob creeks like a old scratching violin. The door slowly opens and my TV dinner and couch wait in side. My house is like carved out pumpkin. Cold empty and one small light in the middle that make the windows brightin up. I finally reach the black tainted leather couch. I collapse onto it. My eyes slowly shut. And unfortunately I’m not dying, I’m sleeping. My dreams always seem to reflect whats gonna happen the next day. Well, I have a lot of nightmares. I usually get haunted in my dreams by the people I have killed. There faces spit at me. Guns shoot at me. They want payback. I don’t fight back I deserve it. There red justice eyes tear into my evil soul, Like a a young kid tearing through birthday presents. The emotions on there faces are like whiled boars ready to trample and do anything to make me die.

My eyes reopen I wake up to the smell of my last TV dinner. It was snow white mash potatoes and old gravy with a side of cold crusted turkey. And I guess my wandering mind still wanted the last bites. I look around curiously. Spotting for anything different then it was yesterday. my eyes say its all the same. From the wooden fan to the stained red carpet marks. This house is as bad of shape as I am. But definitely not worse. I get up and carefully walk to the kitchen. I have no emotion. I pour some week old coffee into a mug. The mug didn’t even have some cheery saying on it all it had was lonesome painted white. I take a couple sips and my taste buds curl up and die. I dump it out and go to the bedroom. I put on some bleached jeans and a white T shirt with my black shades. My eyes Disappear. Sadness reappears I hear another siren in the room. But not a police car. My phone.

I never was that big in technology. I mean my TV still has bunny ears. And my phone wasn’t even a touch screen and I still did not know how to work it. I some how figure how to answer it. It was my boss. Who was a bigger creeper than I was. His voice was raspy like he smokes a hundred cigarettes a day. He said “Hello” like a soprano. “We got a new hit he lives on strawberry road, you in? I will pay you 5 thousand in cash for it. Just when your done give me some DNA and I’ll exchange you with the money.”
I replied with know questions or buts just said “yes” and hung up. Now is when the questions fly through my head. Why am I killing this man? Why do I need to bring him DNA. When I have never lied to him before, and have always killed who I need to killed. Unfortunately this questions will never have answers.

I open up the wooden door as quiet as possible almost like I was practicing. I grab my cold hearted gun and my sharp bladed knife. I take one last look around. Take a deep breath and leave. The car engine roars as i soar through the neighbor hood like a white eagle. I’m the predator he is the pray. The wheels make slurping sounds every time we hit a bump. They were even angry. Fire is back into my eyes and I’m ready for my one man battle.

My shiny shoes hit the hot blacktop and squeak with every walk. Neighbors stare at me with a face indescribable. Almost like I'm gonna kill them too. I make my way to the doorstep the doorknob was cold it turn slowly and it opens. I’m in. I walk into the kitchen no ones there. My sweat hits the tile floor. Fear and nervousness run through my blood stream. I take steps to the living room a man sits there. Its about to become the death room. His head turns slowly his eyes were telling me sorry all ready. He wimps when I’m about to shoot. My gun felt heavy, slipping through my fingertips. It shook like a earthquake. Tears drown me. I cant breath. The other mans tears follow. My mind screams, I CANT TAKE IT. The man Crys out to me “Are you gonna shoot?”
I simply respond looking at the man. Peering into his week body “I’m The hitman, But today I’m gonna let you hit me”
I past the gun. His face gleams with justice. Strength reenters his body. fire heats up in his eyes. The tables have turned. But like in my dreams I let it happen. The trigger snaps. The bulled slips through the airs hands and pierces my hurting body. Silence begins .My head hit the ground with a thud in what seems like in slow motion. My last sight was the man shouting the next round into me. I lay adrift in a puddle of blood. The thoughts are out of my head. My Tongue fell like a white flag out of my mouth. Fortunately I’m not dreaming I’m dieing. My eyes stopped working. My heart beats its last beat. Behind the dried up tears a expression slides onto my face that I have never seen. A smile. Revenge is there’s. Payback is there’s. and I can rest happily in peace In my own section of Hell. Alone.

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XXxTakersGirlxXX said...
Apr. 21, 2011 at 12:15 pm
Oooooh! I love this! This was really good! :D
PJD17 This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. said...
Mar. 30, 2011 at 5:32 pm
good story  kind of surprised im the first comment, you must have just put it up   anyway  great work   keep it up   could you please check out and comment on my story manso's Shame
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