Monologue

I hate this life, I hate the way I have to take others lives, and I hate the way I will have my life taken if I don’t do my job.

I didn’t want to do all this in the first place but I was very desperate, and badly needed money, I needed money just to keep me alive, seriously I was running out of money to buy myself enough food to keep me going for a day. Though I can tell you now, I regret every single moment of my life since I took that decision. It was the worst decision of my life.

Why couldn’t I have done like any other normal person would have and got a loan, or borrowed money of my friends or parents, the other options were all there but I had to take my own idea over everyone else’s. My own little business idea, one hell of idea it turned out to be.

The pay is good, I’m living a life of luxury during the day, but at night the ‘business’ begins. This isn’t a safe thing to be doing, the risks involved are huge, and it’s a surprise I haven’t been caught yet. The life of luxury definitely isn’t worth it. Even though I live well, my life is shit. I hate just about everything, and even worse I hate myself. I tried to kill myself early last year but my wife Elaine saved me. Ironic isn’t it, a hitman that can’t even kill himself.

That’s probably the biggest problem I have. My Wife. Elaine. She’s the only thing that keeps me going yet she’s the reason I want to stop and die. The problem is, she doesn’t know I kill people for a living, and I have to lie to her about it, almost every time I talk to her, it involves a lie, and it kills me inside. I’ve wanted to tell her since the whole thing started, but I just know she’d leave me, and I don’t blame her, but if that happened then I just wouldn’t survive, there would be no-one to keep me from suicide if that happened. Another terrible thing with the suicide is that after it happened, Elaine, understandably wanted to know why I did it, and I had to lie again, which made me want to do it again.
I’ve got another job to do, tonight, I don’t know who it is yet, the boss hasn’t told me. The life the victims lead isn’t anything to do with me. All I know is that they’ve done something to aggravate my employer so they must pay the ultimate price. I try to convince myself it’s ok. I don’t know them, they’re just targets, it’s just me going about my job. It doesn’t work though, it never works, and I hate myself. I’m a despicable excuse for a man, and I don’t deserve to be alive. I could try running, but I know I’d be chased down, that was made clear to me when I ‘applied’ for the job, my employers can’t have their killing machine running around giving away all their secrets. No-body ever leaves this kind of employment. It’s a lifetime job.

I can tell myself it’s not my fault, I was offered the job and was told it would take guts, but I never imagined it would take this much guts. Guts that I don’t have. The worst part of it all is the moment, the brief second, before I pull the proverbial trigger. The feelings of guilt, regret, remorse and sorrow, before the deed is even done. It doesn’t bare thinking about.

But that’s another of my many troubles. I do think about it, that’s all I ever think about. The killing and the lie’s. All the lies are really getting to me; It’s coming to the point that I feel like my dark dreadful secret could burst out of me any moment. But I have to control myself because she would leave me, theirs no denying that and I just can’t allow it to happen.

I’m waiting for my target now, I’m out at night. I crept out after Elaine went to sleep. She’s a heavy sleeper, she won’t notice I’ve gone. My targets situated at a restaurant. I don’t get given a name, just a picture, a time and a location. I’m laid on top of the roof across the street, it’s a funeral director, isn’t that a handy coincidence…

Ok, I can see him now, the target, he’s a middle aged man, balding, with circular glasses, I was told to take him out as he came out the restaurant, and he’s just paying for his meal. This is the bit I hate the most. My throat closes up and I start to sweat. It’s horrible. Right here goes…

Oh no, no, no, no… that cannot just have happened. That didn’t just happen, but as I peer out from my sniper spot I can see the dead body of the little girl that ran in front of the target as I pulled the trigger, I can’t take that, there’s no way I can live with myself any more. Well, I guess I have one final assignment...


goodbye…