I slit his throat rather too quickly. Now, I regretted having to do it as it took away my artistic skills in creating a masterpiece of his death rather than an ordinary one.
The blood oozed in his neck and his body started convulsing as his hand tried desperately to stop the bleeding. But all his efforts were in vain as I see him lifeless with his eyes wide open staring at the man who killed him.
Looking at his artless form, I neither felt joy nor sadness. I have become too callous to feel anything anymore. Killing to me is like butchering; it’s a profession. I've killed a whole lot of people from all walks of life. I do not choose who they are because I just follow their demands. I do not care for their reasons; all I wanted is the price. Men, women, children and elderly - they are all alike to me. But this I do care, I want to kill them in an artistic way because I'm not just an ordinary hired killer.
I took out my phone and sent the message to my costumer. The job was done and I want my compensation. Then I noticed how the man's blood tainted my gloves. It was my favorite one but his death would buy me a hundred of these. I guess this is also one of the hazards in this profession; you often get your things tainted with blood.
Before it was just like this. It started from the blood stain in my gloves, then it got into my shirt, into my pants and until I noticed that it eventually tainted not just my clothes but my whole being. I had sleepless nights as it I started to notice the difference in me but later on I got accustomed to it. The sight and smell of blood became to unnerving anymore that it went to a point that it became too ordinary for me.
My conscience had long forsaken me to this world of sins. I don't care about salvation anymore for I do not live for the life after death but I live for my life today. Just like I said earlier, killing is my profession.
Sometimes I wonder how come people go through a lot of things for them to become a doctor or a lawyer or any other profession but only to be killed by someone like me. They work their asses off trying to memorize those words in those crappy books and yet when I kill them, I felt more powerful than they are. I am just a commoner who did not finish college for the sole reason that I don't think I needed that affiliation in my profession. The universities don’t teach a student how to fire a gun or use a knife to kill someone. It neither teaches you how to sneak into someone's room and wait for your victim patiently. They don't teach you those things which make all of it uninteresting. Thus, it became futile for me to continue educating myself.
It’s at this kind of thinking that I remember my first kill. It was an accident or rather a self-defence since they were the ones who attack me first. My hands shook terribly as I confess to a friend. His words were the ones that kept me going all through those times when I was down. He told me that it was rather that way or the other way around. Its either I kill or be killed. Then as I got my composure back, I started living with his way. As I got mature, I realized that I can't just go on killing people like that. That's when I started this profession. Besides if you look at it, someone has got to do it and it just so happens that I'm available for the job.
date finished: May 4, 2010
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