The Killer

A snidbit of a story I dabbled in. It's in the view point of a hired, hit-man and serial killer

Why did I do it? I don’t know. Maybe it was the hunt…the adrenaline rushing through my veins, my heart beating quickly as I neared the kill. Maybe it was the kill, the long awaited end. The look of death and pleading on a face that knew it was over; the end had come, for them at least. Unfortunately, the kill was over quickly, the climax of the long hunt, and the satisfaction that came after a ‘job well done’ never seemed to last as long as I ever wanted it to.  Then again, maybe it was the call. The moment of decision; the beginning of it all, another way to reach that level of excitement and power. As soon as I knew who was next, my adrenaline seemed to already start to build. One thing’s for sure… it wasn’t the aftermath. The end of it all was bad enough, but then you have to clean up. I was never one for cleaning. Growing up, there was plenty of evidence of that fact in all my foster homes.  They never saw it coming.  

The first time I’d ever made it to the actual kill was when I was young. Too young, maybe, to fully grasp the new life I’d just created for myself. I realized then that I could never turn back, the hunt had grabbed hold of me and it wouldn’t let go, just as a burr clings to the rough coat of a wild boar. You don’t realize the addiction it causes, the adrenaline fuels and nags be to go on and on. You can’t possibly comprehend the feeling you get outsmarting them. Proving to the world that you’re better than they are.

Do I feel guilt? No. None at all. They aren’t anything to me. I don’t care who they were or who they left behind. I just do what I’m told to do and at the end, get my big, fat paycheck. No doubt that it’s more than any average joe gets in a year. And you don’t want to know how many times that paycheck is thrust into my hands, wrapped in thick, yellow envelope. They say money can’t buy you happiness, but it sure can help you find the means to get it.

The only thing that bothers me about my job is all the travelling. I hate how those stupid airlines always seem to screw up. They love to be late, have “technical difficulties and lose your luggage. Not to mention those pathetic, smiling fools who work for them. I swear their faces must be permanently stuck in a smile. Pathetic. Even though it may be a pain sometimes, I know it’s all worth it. Just to get that glorious paycheck into my hands. Am I a monster for doing what I can to get what I want? I mean, just look at all those people out there. Politicians, lawyers…they’re man-eaters. At least my victims have a clue to what’s happening and the fact that they’re getting ripped-off. Lawyers and politicians, naw, they don’t give you that insight.

No matter how good my life is now, it used to be hard. It sucked until I found out what I could really do; when I discovered my true calling. Some would argue that it’s not really a job or talent, but I don’t see them making hundreds of thousands of dollars. It’s an art. You need the perfect balance between senses; you can’t let one overwhelm you. You also need to unleash your hidden senses, the ones almost too dangerous for use in everyday life. You have to learn how to control them, harness them, and to call on them or to force them back in, on command. After all of those emotions and senses running wild and reeking havoc on my life for so many years, I finally got them in check. It’s a glorious feeling/power. Don’t let anyone tell you other wise. Power is worth even more than money; a king could be broke and yet wealthy with power. That’s what I want. Power. That’s what I strive for. That’s why I do my job.

Author's Note

Let me know what you think. The first one I put out had a couple of glitches, and that's way it repeated itself WAY too much.

Reviews

[Eli]

I really like the imagery you set in. It helped move the reader along with what the character was saying. What I didn't like about it is that this is a stereotypical 'hitman' character. The one that has no feelings, just wants money and the satisfaction of killing. The whole time I wanted to hear something that made him human, something I could relate to with reality. But it just wasn't there.

Other than that, though, I thought it was good writing. It flowed easily from paragraph to paragraph, and I got a good sense of who he was by what he was saying.