The Dullness of Age

If I could change one thing, it would be sharpening that knife. Her scream still haunts me. Glass shattered as I fired my gun into the window. I crawled through the window, careful not to cut myself. But she was there, and she was faster than I thought. We struggled but man was she strong. And small. And wiley. Every time I thought I had her, she somehow got out of my grasp. While wrestling, I lost my gun. Finally I tackled her. She hit her head with a thud which stunned her, but she was still alive. I couldn’t find my gun and grabbed my knife. I stabbed her but the dull blade hit her rib. She shrieked, screamed. I stabbed her again, the knife sliding into her making slick, wet sounds. She would not die. Sirens. I could hear the sirens; they were faint at first but gradually were getting louder. They were coming. I had to leave; I had to flee; I had to get away. I had failed. The one thing I was supposed to do and I had failed. I could hear her moaning, crying. I could hear her; she was still alive.

I get away, barely. I could see the bright blue and red lights on the trees as I ran away. I’m exhausted and heading home. But to what? My boyfriend Neil is there, but I can’t tell him what I”ve possibly just done. He’d broken into houses and stolen things before, but he has never tried to kill someone. Would he leave me? Would he demand I leave? Would he call the police and turn me in? He loves me, I know he does. But is attempted murder, a failed murder, too much for him? And my boss. Is this the end of my job as I know it? There’s not much I can put on my resume…a failed assassin is not something one can just put on their resume. Before I was recruited, I was a personal trainer. I guess that will have to do…as long as people don’t mind the 20 year gap. Why am I worried about my resume?!? For fucks sake, my boss will have my head for this! For 20 years I was the best. I was the one that was called when death needed to happen. That dull knife…have we both been used up? Become dull in our age? Did I not prepare enough? I know I didn’t because the knife was dull. How could I be so absolutely careless like this? So cocky! And for what? That girl, she saw my face. I never wear a mask because I’m always successful. I’m scared. I’m tired. This was not how this was supposed to end he thinks as he walks home, keeping to the dark.

Home. That blue front door has never looked so good. Neil is there, probably still sleeping. Our 4 kids are still sleeping. What a beautiful life I have made, now just to have it all ripped from me. I can’t stay. My boss will be looking for me. It’s not safe; not safe for Neil, not safe for our kids. I walk in and instantly can feel someone else there, awake. The house is silent, but the light in the kitchen is on. We never leave it on. I turn the corner, walking as quietly as possible and avoiding the creaky board that always announces someone’s presence. I’m scared; is my boss already here? Did he see how bad I fucked up and is here to end me now? In my own house? The thought to run upstairs and kiss the kids one more time runs fleetingly through my head. And then the thought to scream. Wake everyone up and maybe get out. But I can’t. That would only put my family in danger. So turn the corner I must. I take a breath of air in, trying to calm my nerves. I guess if this is it, this is it. It’s been a good life, a fun life, a life very much worth living. Around the corner I see…Neil. A wave of relief washes over me. It’s not my boss. It’s not the cops. It’s my partner, my love and I have never been more happy to see him.

He turns, smiling. He knows I work at night; what I do, he does not know. And right now, my hands and clothes are covered in blood. I quickly shed my clothes and throw them in the washing machine. I will deal with them later. “Hey honey. I got off work a bit early tonight. Slow but messy night; boss said I could go. You’re up early? How about I go wash my hands, put on some comfy clothes and then we can have some early morning breakfast before the kids wake up?” I hate lying to him, but he can’t know. Especially now. He thankfully agrees and starts making our breakfast while I run upstairs and get dressed…and wash my hands. I watch the blood flow down the drain, making sure to scrub my nails really well. As the water turns from red to clear, I exhale a sigh of relief. Whatever happens, happens. But for now, I’m glad I’m home. I’m also exhausted. Once Neil and the kids leave for work and school, my plan is to collapse in bed and sleep away this day. I know I messed up. I know this could literally be the death of me. But for now, for now I go on with my day as if nothing ever happened.

I head back downstairs, my stomach rumbling at the smell of eggs and bacon. Before I sit down, I look at Neil and ask, “Coffee or tea this morning? I think I could use a strong, strong cup of coffee” as I start making mine. Neil responds “coffee’s fine.” I can’t tell if he’s still just sleepy, or if something is wrong. Maybe he knows? Maybe he saw the blood? But no, he sits down and I can tell that he’s just really tired. The rhythmic drip of the coffee almost lulls us both to sleep, but the aroma of freshly brewed coffee seems to perk us both up at first whiff. I hand a steaming cup to Neil, internally thankful for this amazing man of mine. He’s a great dad, a great partner, I really could not ask for more. I bring my coffee to my mouth, hand slightly shaking. Today is going to be a good day, I remind myself. I hear our children stirring as they start to wake up, the sounds of several different alarms going off at once. As they smell the breakfast I can hear them start to come down the stairs, eager for bacon and eggs. I steady my shaky hand (still remembering what happened just a mere few hours ago), take a sip of the coffee, turn around and greet my children with a “good morning kids! Who wants breakfast?”