Today marks the five-year anniversary of my death. While my body and mind may live on, my compassion and love have rotted to dust. One horrific moment in my existence changed my life forever. That moment created the soulless monster that I am today.
One thousand eight hundred twenty five days.
Forty three thousand eight hundred hours.
To some, five years seems like a lifetime. Two love-struck individuals come together and the foundation of a family is formed. Sprinkle in a few children and a white picket fence, and that family will blossom. The finishing touch on this picture-perfect family is a puppy.
For me, five years seems like yesterday. The faintest reminder of that sickening night brings back the pain in bright white waves. My heart aches at the loss as it comes fresh to my mind. It feels as though shards of glass are being pumped through my veins. In the beginning it was debilitating. Over time my tolerance for the pain grew. Living with the misery became bearable.
July 24th is always the hardest. With Jill’s death fresh in my mind, I must resolve to visit the man that brought me such misery. In the instant that our eyes meet, hate flares in my heart. The shards of glass that pump through my veins turn molten. Searing hot rage flows through my being. It takes every fiber of my will to resist the urge to kill.
Throughout the fist year of Jill’s death I prospered in my career. I had risen from a mere collector, street-thug, to a cold blooded killer. By pouring forth hate and pain into my victims, I quickly rose through the ranks.
On the first anniversary of Jill’s death, my misery was immense. The blood on my hands controlled the burn but did not douse the flames. My only option seemed to pay a visit to the man that sparked this roiling blaze. I would kill him for killing me.
The first time I locked eyes with my loves killer, I realized that his pain was great. He felt genuinely sorry for what he had done. His eyes begged me to end his life but I refused. By killing the man I would end his suffering. By allowing him to live, and paying an annual visit, I could prolong his pain for the remainder of his life.
Today I pay a visit to Uncle Joe in his assisted living home. As usual, I will remind him that on the night of Jill’s death, I planned to propose to her. Tears will be shed, pain will be felt, but both of our meaningless lives will continue.
This installment of Memoirs of an Assassin was inspired by the latest prompt from Write Anything’s Fiction Friday. The prompt required that we take two characters and allow them to meet in a story. When the idea hit me, I nearly fell out of my chair. The possibilities swirled in my mind and I couldn’t wait to couple Memoirs of an Assassin with a previous piece I wrote for Fiction Friday, Dire Consequences.
My intention was to extend this piece a bit but time was difficult to find this week. My thought was to use the above as a journal entry (like I’ve done in the past) then write a seperate section detailing the encounter. A fussy newborn postponed my writing session and I was forced to write what I could, when I could.
In addition to submitting this piece to the Fiction Friday crowd, I have also included it in the #FridayFlash Twitter group. For more information on that group, and a listing of all entries, please head over to JM Strother’s Mad Utopia.
Memoirs of an Assassin is an ongoing serial. To get caught up from the beginning, please use the links below.