Hello, Mr.Hitman

100,000 dollars. If I killed her, I would get paid 100,000 dollars.

It was the highest paying job I’ve ever received as a hitman. It was so simple as well. I didn’t have to hide in buildings or bushes, or go undercover at an event. All I had to do was show up and kill her.

At first I was skeptical. It’s obviously too good to be true. But my client is bold, they sent me all their personal info, and told me I could kill them if they didn’t give their half. Fine by me.

It was too easy being a hitman, it was just the perfect job for me. The adrenaline rushes, the intense focus needed on missions, the stories and complications I come across, and the connections I make, it’s something no normal job could provide. Besides, it’s not that evil. I mostly kill loan sharks, rapists, abusers, and the occasional political opponent. I only kill bad people. Bad people don’t deserve to live. My job is justified.

My car rumbles as it hits the 13th pothole on this trip. These country roads seem very well maintained. I’ve driven for at least 5 hours now, and by the time the grass off the side of the road became sand, the last of normal drivers had disappeared. All I see now is truckers and cement mixers.

The vast emptiness of the Nevada desert means no one dares to come here, lest their car breaks down under the sweltering heat. It was a nice view however, the low, rocky mountains peaking off the horizon, the scorching sun slowly setting in the distance, gusts of sand and dust blowing across the flat terrain. I should come here for vacation more often.

My eyes tear away from the beautiful vista as they begin to focus on the destination coming up ahead. A small, junky mobile home with a purple door, standing awkwardly among dozens of other mobile homes. Criminals always pull this, living in tiny towns with no names to run away from their terrible acts. It’s up to people like me to find them and put them in a place they’d love to call home,

Hell.

I begin to slow down, turning into the pitiful entrance of the town - if you could even call it that, - and head down the rough dirt road. I drove past one home, then two, then three, four, five, six, before my senses began to feel off. It’s pitch quiet. No sounds of people talking, no dogs barking, no windchimes or footsteps to be heard. All the lights inside the houses are off, even though the sun had finally gone under the horizon. Every vehicle looks eaten, with rust and sand plastered all over their bodies, just like the houses next to them.

What happened to this place? How bad of an act do you have to commit to hide here? If this is some sort of trap, my client knows damn well I’m equipped to deal with any threat. Trying to trick me is the gravest mistake they’ll ever commit.

Only after passing a dozen abandoned homes do I see it; the house with the purple door. The only house in this entire park with a single light on. My heart rate begins to grow faster, as if it knows something grand is about to happen.

The area grows quieter and quieter as my car approaches the house. The place seems more well kept than all the other shacks in the park, and the car in the driveway seems recently used.

Still, I can’t seem to shake off the feeling that something isn’t right. Sure, being in the middle of nowhere makes my job child’s play, but this is too far from society. Am I even killing something human? Is there some eldritch horror awaiting me inside this house? How did the client even know their target was here? Too many questions, too few answers.

I get out of the car, grabbing my pistol on the way out. The porch steps creak like a broken swing as I walk up to the door. Being closer, I can make out a small crack in the door. Unlocked. My eyebrows furrow, and my hands grip to the gun in my pocket harder. I can’t back down now. I’m here to end a criminal. I’m here to put them in their place. I’m doing a good deed. I’m doing the right thing.

I push the door open and whip out my gun, pointing it to random spots of darkness in the room. It’s pitch black in here, but my keen senses can still pick up on some details. Moldy walls, a sofa, the smell of….blood?

I turn and rub my hands along the walls, feeling for any kind of light switch. A quick movement flicks one up, revealing the brutal sight that laid hidden in darkness.

A woman, well past her 30s, sits on the sofa. Her skin is pale and reddish. Her cold hands are clamped together, gripping a pistol. Dried blood is splattered all across the wall, all across her face, all across her shirt and sofa. Blood is everywhere.

I clamp on my teeth hard. Was this the target? Did they kill themselves before I got here? Or is it some sort of bait to distract me? What the hell is going on?

Still, the house remains ever silent. Only the hum of the fluorescent light above fills the quietness that this town is famous for.

My eyes graze past a bag on the coffee table that I hadn’t noticed before. My feet take small steps after step, a hand reaching out for the sticky note stuck to the top of the bag. I peel it off carefully, the bag could have anything. A bomb, a limb, drugs, anything. I bring the purple sticky note to my face, noticing the delicate handwriting written on it.

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t bring myself to do it. This town is cursed. Her life is doomed. Please, please just do it. Death will be more merciful than anything her life could offer. She will be out back. The money is inside this bag. I’m sorry.”

My free hand begins to dig through the drawstring bag on the table. Sure enough, wads and wads of cash are stashed inside.

What the hell is going on here? If the woman on the sofa isn’t the target, then who is she? If they lived in this dump, where did they get all this money? Who the hell is out back?

Once again, too many questions, too few answers. But this time, there is one thing I can find for myself…

I crumple the sticky note, walking over to the backdoor and gripping the knob. This must be it. Perhaps the lady on the couch was a friend or family, who tried to talk my target out of their evil ways. But it didn’t work, and now they’re dead. Whoever lies outside this door could very be my most vile target yet. Perhaps they robbed a bank, killed a few people, and hid away at this dump. That would explain the money.

I tell myself over and over, “Whoever lies beyond this door deserves death.”

“Whoever lies beyond this door deserves death.”

“Whoever lies beyond this door deserves death.”

I swing open the door.

I point my gun.

To a girl sitting by a table.

…….

…………what?

She looks at me, eyes open in shock, “U-Um…Who are you? Where’s Mama?”

My arms lower, and my eyes open in shock, copying hers. “I-I….Wha….”

I don’t understand. Was there some kind of mistake? Am I at the wrong address? Why is there a young girl here?

“Um…” She speaks up, avoiding looking at my face, “Well, thank you for coming to my birthday, Mr. Stranger. Are you one of mama’s friends?”

No. No no no no no, this can’t be right. What the hell?! What kind of job is this? Sending me out to the middle of nowhere to kill a young girl?!

The girl gives me a confused look. “Can you like…say something?”

I slowly walk down the steps, inching closer to the folding table the girl is sitting at. A small cake with dry candles sits there uneaten.

“I….um….I’m here to do something.” I tell her.

“So why do you have a gun?” She remarks.

A single line of sweat runs down the side of my head. What the heck do I tell this girl? I’m here to kill you because your mom said so? What kind of sentence is that?

Still, I swallow the lump in my throat. “I have a gun because…you might have done something bad. Have you done anything bad?”

The girl, who seems to be in her early teens, crosses her arms. “What? You’re gonna kill me if I did?”

That’s not a line an innocent person says. I raise my gun at her. If she has done something bad, she deserves to die. Finally, we’re getting somewhere.

The girl trembles at the sight of my gun. “Ok ok, geez. U-Umm…I mean, I guess I was kinda fussy about my birthday? Mama seemed really stressed these past few days so I probably shouldn’t have but…”

“Was that your mom inside?” I ask.

The girl stays silent, but her chest begins to rise and sink faster and faster. “Hey…did…did you kill mama? Is that why you’re asking? Is that why you have a gun?!”

Her hands grip to the side of the chair, her body overventilating. I shake my head. Time to drop this whole show, this has gone on for too long.

“Your mother was dead when I got here.”

The girl freezes at my words. Tiny breaths escape her bit by bit, her sanity slipping with it as well.

“No. Mama…mama is waiting for a friend. She told me to wait outside. She’s waiting for a friend, she’s not dead. She’s not dead! She’s. Not. Dead. You liar!” She shoots up from her chair.

The girl was fuming now, her head shaking aggressively to the sides, as is trying to dodge the harsh reality of the situation. “WHY THE HELL ARE YOU HERE? WHO ARE YOU?! WHAT DID YOU DO TO MAMA?!”

“I didn’t do anything. Your mom sent me here. She was dead when I found her. End of story.”

“NO! No no, you shut your damn mouth!” The girl’s voice grows raspy from yelling. She opens her mouth to speak, but only silence comes out, as she drops her head. “My mama’s not dead. The bang….the bang was you, wasn’t it? You broke into the house right?!”

My eyes squint in confusion. “Bang? What bang?”

“Don’t play dumb with me!” The girl yells, “You broke into the house and….and…no….NOOOO!”

The girl dashes away from the table the second my guard goes down and runs inside the house, nearly slamming into the door. It doesn’t matter if I went inside the house or not, The blood curdling scream from the girl could be heard from miles away.

Still, I walk, gun in hand. Perhaps her mom was right. What led to her killing herself, I don’t know. But this girl is going to suffer a terrible fate. Her only family, gone, leaving her abandoned in an empty neighborhood, in the middle of the Nevada desert. If I weren’t here, she would be confused, run away, and die of dehydration, or be kidnapped, or god knows what else. But now that I’m here…

Another bout of wailing erupts from the girl as I stand by the door, snapping me out of my thoughts. Still…she never did anything wrong. She’s just…abandoned. What good is it for me to kill her when she has so much life ahead of her?

I can feel my mind dissonating. She has so much ahead of her, she doesn’t deserve to die. But if she lives, she will suffer alone. So I must kill her. But she’s so young, it just doesn’t feel right. Voice after voice, thought after thought.

The girl, kneeled by her mothers side, wails into her hands. “Why did you do it…? You promised we would go somewhere b-better…why did you leave me…? Ma…ma….”

My eyes itch. All pleadings I’ve heard before were from people who knew what they’ve done, knew what horrors they committed. But this…why did that woman have to rope me into this? I only kill bad people. Not hopeless families. But still…

The girl shows her face, realizing I’m there. “You…why….why did she do this? Why is this happening….?”

It takes me a long time to respond. “I don’t know.”

The girl clutches her stomach. “Mama always tried to hide the fact this town was dyin’. So when she said we would be leavin’ to somewhere nice I thought…I thought…”

“She’s gone now, kid.”

The girl stays silent, her tears calming down. The silence between us is long, I was sick of it. I was sick of all the damn silence in this town.

The girl thinks long and hard before finally squeaking out a few words. “Please don’t….”

“Please don’t kill me. Please don’t leave me….”

I couldn’t take this girl in, even if I wanted to. This deadly game of contract killing is too much for an innocent girl like her. But still…

No. No more indecision. I…can’t save this girl. Maybe I can, maybe I shouldn’t, maybe I will. I don’t know. I don’t know anything anymore. I should only kill bad people. But I can’t take this girl with me. She has to die. She can’t die.

My hands, grasping onto the gun, struggle to rise, unwilling to deal with this newfound situation. Still I press on, raising the gun as the girl sits in horror.

“Please, no! I haven’t done anything wrong! I don’t wanna die! I DON’T WANT TO DIE! PLEASE LISTEN TO ME!”

Her tears match mine. Her breathing matches mine. Her feelings match mine.

“I…have to do this kid. I….”

I swallow. I have to do this. I can’t save her. I can’t take her away. But she’s doomed. She’s alone. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if she ended up suffering. But I don’t know these people. I can just kill them and move on with my life. Right? Right?

My hands are trembling, something they’ve never done before. Have I been doing the right thing? Is this the right thing to do?

The girl stares at me, hope and immense fear in her eyes. But I don’t stare back.

Only the barrel of my gun does.