The Broken Mind

Chapter One

I don't want to die.

Can I call myself a hypocrite for saying that when my life is based on ending other people's lives?

Maybe it would be justifiable if I cared, I hardly blink an eye when I kill now. It's second nature to me like walking, breathing. It comes natural. If someone had to ask me how many people I killed, I wouldn't be able to count them all.

Maybe sometimes, I can enjoy it. It's their reaction that always get me, it shows the real person under all that skin.

I don't enjoy the tears though, I'm not some sadist.

There's so much tears and the begging. God, sometimes, they even tell me their deepest darkest secrets. I'm the last person they'll ever see so why not admit their failures? Once, this guy told me that he was cheating on his wife like that was the reason I was going to kill him.

That isn't always the case, the most often last phrases are:

"Why are you here?" They'll ask me.

"Please don't do this to us!" They'll beg.

"I didn't mean it." They'll tell me.

No matter what they say, I have a job to be done.

It's for the greater good. The only thing I see when I enter that room is a target that I have to kill. I'm told that I make the world a better place and I believe that. I see what these people do, destroying lives, murdering the innocence, I get rid of these people. Maybe I'm just trying to find a way to sleep at night but it's true that this world is evil and I like to think that I rid the evil bit by bit each day.

Today's job is a quick and easy one. They have no idea I'm coming, they don't believe anyone would be brave enough to even attempt to step near him.

I stay outside the house, and fix the silencer on my gun. Wouldn't want anyone to hear us. The less noise, the better.

I admire the scenery around this broken down house. The lawn hasn't been cut for well over a year, it's close to representing a jungle. I'm slightly wary in case a lion attacks me as I step into the grass. There's classy vandalism on the front of the house, maybe some gang sign, more people's name.

This is his girlfriend's house, he's vulnerable here without his guards. I can hear shouting and screams from inside. Someone is arguing. Crashes and bangs as things smash off walls.

My boots walk through the grass that almost comes up to my knees. As I reach the porch, the shouting has gotten much louder. More angry.

This just made my job a whole lot easier.

I put on my gloves, and knock the door. No one answers, they can't hear it over their arguing.

Taking my chances, I open the door. The mixture of drugs and alcohol hits me so strong that I nearly fall back down the porch. It's so strong that I can feel the inside of my nostrils burning.

I walk through the threshold, and my feet stick to the floor. Something must have been spilt here.

The shouting is coming from the back of the house, I step over some needles and pills lying on the floor. It's a carpet made of drugs. Obviously there's no maid in this house.

A sound of a person snoring makes me look to my left. Someone is sleeping face down on the floor in which is suppose to be a living room, but is empty. There's no chance the person is going to wake up; they are completely out of it. Well, they must be to be able to put their face down on this floor, it's disgusting.

Looking around myself, the house is a mess. It's bare with the lack of furniture. You think if you were going out with drug dealer, he would at least give you a nice home to live in. But what do I know? I've never even had a boyfriend.