It's midnight and I'm getting
ready leave. The air is crisp as I carefully leave my house.
The sky, a shade of midnight blue is decorated with thousands
of dancing stars above my head with the bright moon, almost
full, slightly illuminating the ground. As I turn on the
engine to my car, I pray that nobody in my household wakes
up. The last thing I need is a nagging mother asking me where
My boss called me telling me that I have a job to do. The
company chose me for this job because I am the last one
anyone ever suspects. Apparently, I'm too kind and
gentle-hearted to commit such crimes. So far, it's worked for
them, so they stick with it. Sometimes I wish to leave and
never come back, but then they will kill me. It sucks, they
don't even pay me. The boss is full of threats and fear, but
he doesn't do anything! He just sits in his old reclining
chair, smokes a cigar and tells his minions what has to get
I'm a murderer or rather an
assassin. My boss tells me who he wants dead and I get the
job done. It's very simple. The bad part of it is . . .
everyone he orders to kill, are innocent teens. I never
understood why he wants them gone . . . but I can't question
him. The worst part is that I can't say no. I was forced into
this job two years ago. I still remember the first person I
killed. Her name was Sydney and she was so beautiful. She
looked like a model the way her black hair cascaded over her
shoulders and how her body gracefully glided in the hallways
at her school. Apparently, her father was a cop who
threatened to put an end to my boss's 'company' and he didn't
like it. So he ordered me to kill her as fast as I could. I
remembered feeling petrified, numb at the thought of
physically killing a person. At the time, I was only 15 and I
had never, ever dreamed of putting an end to someone's life
but somehow . . . I did. I remember pouring poison in her
coffee when we hung out for the first time and I remembered
how my heart pounded, sweat dripping down my face. Seeing her
seize and choke until she died. I had nightmares for months
and I cried and cried . . . buy now . . . I'm numb to it.
I've been desensitized to the act of murder. I have been
trained not to feel anything and to do it as quick as
possible before forming any emotional or physical
The drive there was
very silent. All the while I was thinking about who he wants
dead. My biggest fear . . . is that he'll ask me to kill one
of my friends. Going into the office, my heart pounds as he
takes out a folder with information about the person and I'm
always afraid it'll be one of my close friends. Asking
questions … is out of the question. I always have to think
three times about what I'm going to say because it might
offend him. Half of the time, I barely say anything at all
just to avoid a confrontation.
I arrive at the quarters at exactly twelve twenty five. I
have exactly fifteen minutes to make it there before I'm
late. I parked my car in the garage and take out my card. My
card has my name, picture and information/job description.
It's my ticket in the building and if I lose it … I'm
The place is an abandoned
warehouse in the middle of the woods. Very appropriate to
host meetings about murdering people. It used to be a
corporate building, but due to the unfinished road, the
company moved and left this warehouse to rot.
As I entered, I showed the two
guards at the door my card and they escorted me into my
boss's office. My boss is a chubby short man with a wasted
face and gray eyes. He's supposed to be dead, but he's in
hiding. That's why he's here in this old abandoned warehouse
in the middle of the woods.
"Zaq, you're here early," He said
in his Irish accent. I stay composed but I'm laughing on the
inside. He's very intimidating, but the second he says
something, I can't take him seriously.
"Yes sir, I figured
the sooner I got here the better," I said casually careful
about my expression and my tone.
"Indeed. I have a job
for you," He told me as he got up and went to one of the
filing cabinets behind his desk up against the wall. I sat in
one of the chairs in front of his desk and my right leg began
to shake. My palms began to sweat a little and I became
anxious. I looked around trying to ease the noise but it was
"There's a girl. Her
uncle has caused me trouble. She needs to disappear," He said
with an angry, yet calm voice.
"Alright," I spoke with a
confident sounding tone but on the inside, I'm screaming for
help. He dropped a neat folder in front of me and he plopped
himself down on his chair.
"Her name is Dawn Leigh," He
enunciated her name with anger and I couldn't help but wonder
what her family has done to get him this angry.
"That's a pretty
name," I said softly as I opened up the folder. I looked at
her photo for a couple moments memorizing her features. She
had medium long wavy brown hair that gently fell over her
shoulders and a roundish face with flawless pale skin. Her
large brown eyes sparkled and complimented her beautiful
"She's a very pretty
person. Inside and out," He smiled a cruel smile and I looked
at all her information. From the paper work, she seemed like
the perfect girl. She had no flaws, no record, nothing that
would make anybody want to kill her. She graduated middle
school and she's going to be a freshmen in high school next
school year. I read the name of the high school and my heart
sank. She's going to the same school I am currently
"Yeah," my voice was
a whisper as I looked at her picture once more.
"But remember, she needs to
disappear. Make it fast Zaq," He said lighting a cigar. I
nodded in understanding and put the folder back on the desk.
Something feels different. I've never felt this way before
when I received information on the victim. When I left the
room, the air felt heavy and I found myself having trouble
breathing right. I know one thing for sure, I will never
forget her picture.