The night was misty and bleak, gazing from afar into a family’s little home window there was a man standing, his cigarette lit as a sinister smile creeps on his lips. He watches the man and woman play with their children.
The man shook his head, never once would he believe himself to be in these shoes. There as he stood while he savoured the last moment this family would have before their blood would stain their perfect little home. Without this work he flashes to the thoughts of what he and his younger sister had to do on the streets as they scavenged for scraps, begging while the snobs walked without a second glance. His sister deserved more than to be a street rat, barely surviving at the bone.
“Might as well,” the man muttered to himself.
His footsteps echoed on the damp pavement, water splashing as the sky roared, the wind gusting. He did not sway or stray from the course of his job, countless jobs and not once did storms stop him. Neither did countless hours without sleep, illness, not even broken bones could stop the thoughts of his beloved sister. How could he, at this moment stop supporting her?
Before knocking on their door, he loosened their light bulb. He glanced one more time as the brother set his young sister on the floor after carrying her on his back, she couldn’t be any younger than four. In the end he knew that the family had to die, but it kept breaking his heart as there were flashes of his baby sister in her. Scoffing he places the light bulb in his duster, gently knocking the two shaves and a hair cut.
The woman looked through the peephole to no avail as the light wasn’t turning on but creating short sparks. She opens the door to see him in his duster, the man looked lost without a
doubt. Her eyes showed fear while fingers trembled, yet didn’t bat an eye to a stranger at all.
“May I help you sir,” The woman quietly asks, her lips quivering.
“I’m in need of a phone miss, to call my sister,” The punctilio man explain, “Would it be alright if I came inside? It is terribly cold and wet, and I haven’t the slightest clue as to where I am.”
“I suppose for a minute that would be fine,” The woman spoke, “But let me speak to my husband about this first.”
Closing the door the woman scurried to her husband, he then whispered into the ears of his children as they ran for cover. The husband came to the door as the woman hid from sight. He always hated doing contracts the difficult ways, but sometimes there was no given choice.
“May I help you sir?” The husband asked.
“Sir, I really need a phone call to my sister,” The man repeated, “It’s really dreadfully cold.”
“I can’t let you in sir,” He firmly responded, “We have children and all I can offer is to drive you back home.”
“I suppose so, sir,” The man reluctantly agreed to.
“Let me open the garage and I’ll be out soon,” The husband quickly explained.
The man went over to the garage and waited by the door, having a hand in the other pocket of the duffel coat. In the pocket glimmered a silver and gold tint, the man gave it a quiet click. The door swung open as the husband had his keys in hand but froze in his steps, silencing his whistling tune of To Be Loved By You by Wynonna Judd. In that moment he felt his heart stop with the sound of a clack, collapsing to the ground as his killer tormented him.
“Next time Detective Price,” The man’s voice whispered, “You shouldn’t meddle in other’s affairs.”
Mr. Price gasped and pleaded, “Please spare them, they have no part in this.”
“I’m afraid they are, laddie,” the man explained, “My employers aren’t happy, not one wee bit. I am sorry.”
The man then twisted his neck and his suffering was over, the house was quiet and dark. While the children had been sound asleep, their mother laid in the master bedroom reading. He had limited time before the police sirens echoed down the empty streets. Neither did it stop his blood’s need to mix this business with a dangerous pleasure.
The boy’s room was not far, yet it was the room closest to the master bedroom. He brought the gun out as he placed it upon the little boy’s head. Beginning to tremble he only did what he thought best, awaking the boy from his eternal slumber. Upon his awaking the boy began to tremble as his lips quivered, instead the man made a gurgling grunt gesturing to go to his parents’ room. Quietly or else if a sound was made, his life saw the glimpse of the shiny metal met with the attachment that would not even awake the family.
Walking upon the master bedroom, the mother smiled almost as if her husband had finally returned with their son who possibly was suffering another episode of nightmares. Yet upon the look on her son’s face and the hand on his shoulder didn’t have the wedding band from their wedding day but tattoos that she knew. Heart racing she almost screamed, yet stopped herself in fear of her baby’s life while holding hope her youngest was unharmed and would get help.
No help would come of course, as she stayed in her bed all snug and happy in a world of dreams and fantasies. Lips trembled quivered as the woman quietly sobs as the man guided the boy to the bathroom. Giving a menacing glare with his good eye, the other closed with a long
scar from the shivs and fist fights before his mother passed.
“Be a good woman and get duct tape,” the man said, “Or the lassie gets a wee ball in his head.”
The woman reluctantly walked to the nearby closet where all the construction and sewing supplies were kept. There was pieces of wood holding splinters, a machine laying on the side in the far back of the closet, yet above the shelf contained what would seal their fates. Hands trembling as she reached for the shiny, platinum colored tape almost blinking the waterworks out.
“Please don’t hurt my babies,” Mrs. Price pleaded, her sobs choking on the words, “I’ll do anything you say. I promise.”
“I’m afraid it’s too late ma’am,” the man retorted, “Ye and yer husband shouldn’t meddle in affairs. After all ye left and made the boss angry, being his pretty runaway bride.”
“I was not to be his reward,” Mrs. Price argued, “I was brought on lies to come to the land of the free. To have a life here with my family, my husband, and children who are my heart. Do you not have children or family you’d do anything for?”
The man stood there, glimpsing through memories of his baby sister, how’d she’d be disgusted if she knew the truth now. Yet he couldn’t back out, not until the family was taken care of. Instead he glanced at the boy and woman, seeing what he had to do to keep one of them safe.
“I’m afraid lass I can’t give into your request, the boss holds the payment I need to keep my little sister and I surviving in our home and for her schooling,” The man quietly explains before his voice becomes hopeful, “However I can only save one of you. I already made the decision of who, however you may write a final goodbye for me to send when she turns the age of twenty-two.”
“No,” Mrs. Price pleads, “Please spare us and we won’t tell on you.”
“I’m sorry lass,” The man responded, “That’s the best I can do.”
Mrs. Price and the boy then nodded as they wrote their final goodbyes to the only one who’d survive the onslaught. They scrambled down in hurried pace in hopes and one day that she’d survive to see this, that their love and pride was enough to keep her going. Giving the two pieces of papers to the man, hoping he’d keep to his word.
The man then duct taped Mrs. Price’s hands before he told the boy, “Take off your clothes.”
Mrs. Price nodded towards her son as water kept streaming down their faces as they experienced their last and final moments. He then guided the boy to the tub, filling with cold water to ease the pain that’d be quick from the shock. Gesturing with his Colt Commander to go into the tub the boy did, his body quaking worse as the boy’s skin turned slightly pink. The man then aimed at the boy’s knee caps, ploosh ploosh, and then to the chest in delivering blow. Once his body stopped convulsing, becoming a motionless husk as the man closed the boy’s eyes.
Mrs. Price sobs grew as she heard her only son rattling in the water as she tried to hold onto the precious memories of her sweet, innocent boy. The man tapped her to the bed, giving a final glance… pht pht pht pht. The woman felt no pain as the shot first went through her skull, square between the eyes, in hopes she wouldn’t feel pain as her son had. Next shots were staged, in hopes to throw the scent off of him and upon Detective Price’s partner who also knew of the dangers.
Now all that’s left, the man silently thought, is that little girl I’m going to save.
Entering the little girl’s room he maneuvered all her barbie dolls and rugrats plush toys, her favorite angelica held close to her chest while she slept. The man knew that family had
to die, but he couldn’t feel nothing but malaise at the thought of this poor little girl being one of his victims. The thoughts conflicted if it was the resemblance of his sister or if there was something under his facade that just spoke to her alone.
Nevertheless he took her in his arms gently, wandering until he found himself in the living room. He then went and got g the gasoline from his friend waiting in the car, nothing more than a petty criminal that couldn’t be caught. Also the one who gave him the job when he was about to run out of his luck.
“Hey Mac,” the other man joked, even though Mac wasn’t his real name, “What’s shakin’?”
“Help me take care of the house,” the man explained, “and bring the branding iron too.”
“What do you mean the ‘branding iron’,” the other man exclaimed, “What’d you fuck up now!?!”
“It’s to save that little girl Johnny,” the man warned, “and if you don’t like it, I’ll go to the boss and say you screwed up and that I had to fix your shit mess. Who do you think he’d believe more? A petty thief or a professional hitman?”
Johnny couldn’t argue as he knew what his friend was saying, after all he got his friend into this stinking mess. Not to mention going soft at the last minute because of some stupid, little girl. In the end, he was the boss and all Johnny could do was follow his commands as he lit up the blowtorch and his signature branding iron.
The branding iron was simple and smaller than any other branding companies who sold them. In a way this would protect the girl who was still sleeping a sound in the living room. Only room in the house that the man didn’t put gasoline in, at least not yet. The man finished the house as he got the girl and brought her outside, laying upon the damp grass.
“Mac, you best not be going soft,” Johnny warned, “If they know, they’ll be furious.”
“Which is why we’re gonna blindfold and duct tape the girl,” the man retorted huffly, “and you’re gonna help me do it Johnny.”
Johnny shook his head and began duct taping the girl’s legs and hands while the man blindfolded and duct tape her face. Lifting her shirt they flipped the branding iron to read ’KI’ instead of ’IK’. As the branding iron pierced the little girl’s skin, she awoke screams muffled by the duct tape and her thrashing off her attackers.
The man knew it would be moments before the police detective’s partner showed up suspicious of the house. He loved the little girl so much he tried to be firm without leaving bruises or marks. The girl kept thrashing until exhaustion took her over and she became limp, not a scar or bruise lay upon her rounded head.
The man turns to see Johnny putting a gun to her head, and the man just snapped without hesitation. Placing his arm he put enough pressure to get Johnny unconscious yet not killed, after all he needed him to get his payment. The man noticed the little girl squirming, her muffled cries as she wormed her way to anywhere. In the distance the loud sirens rung through the night and it was too late to burn the house. He threw Johnny on his shoulders as he rushed towards the car, putting Johnny in the back as he hopped into the driver’s side.
Turning the car on he just drove, dwelling on the thoughts to the little girl who’d be alone. His own girl was going to have a daughter he had no idea how he was going to take care of her, hell he had no idea to be a father at all. Yet she was always saying, “it’s the best thing that’s ever going to happen to you,” or “Why not get a real job to support your family?”
However this was all he knew, how he could do since he was a young lad in a land where bagpipes chimed and sea water was fresh as a morning dew. Just before he could think of his parents, the siren rushed past like the take off of a plane. He kept driving for a few more hours, thinking to himself of what he had done. Yes he had not killed the entire family, but the little girl would never know it was him and he had completed the job.
Opening the door he then held the keys before slamming the door, the sky sparkling with dozens of stars. The man then did what he could do when he was alone, he scream to the glittering stars that would not judge or speak back. Dropping to his knees, his head hung, as all he could do was dig into the darken dirt to keep himself from throwing items at the car. Why had he even taken the job? For his selfish pride? For money? For his bloody sister? Why did he have to kill a little girl’s family for his own? He could’ve let the mother live, yet he didn’t, or her son whose fear was unimaginable. In the years he had train and completed jobs, he never once had sirens come too close for escape.
“God, I know you may not hear me. You also may not care,” The man vowed, “but as you may know I have sinned. I have destroyed this girl’s family, and I swear I won’t do this again unless she’s in danger. Until then I won’t destroy another family, and will honor her like she were my own daughter…”
Johnny then jumped out of the car and yelled, “What the bloody hell is going on, you trying to piss the boss off on your first job for him!?!”
“Bugger off,” The man snapped, “Just get in and bloody drive to the place the boss wants us to meet. I loss the police just before they arrived at the scene.”
Johnny wanted to ask more questions, however he left it be just for the sake to not upset the boss for the specific instructions they had to follow. The man got up before dusting the dirt off his pants, and as he glanced to the stars thinking of how they’d watch over the little girl. Now the man had no choice, but to look forward at a chance he wouldn’t be forced into choosing his new family or the nameless little girl.