The Catch?

“So… what's the catch? That’s too perfect.” I hear her say. 

I pause for a second, none of them have ever asked that. What is the catch? Ohh, the catch. The catch. The catch. The catch. 

Well… I guess the catch is me. 

Am I the catch?

I smile with a smile that's been practiced to perfection, although maybe it looks like a smirk, “Me,” I take a small step towards her as her eyebrows scrunch in confusion. 

“You? I- I have a husband.” she says hesitantly, taking a nervous step back. I love it when they try to come up to conclusions, and come up with the wrong ones. I chuckle lightly. 

“Not like that, those people are sick,” I take another step towards her and offer my hand, obviously I must escort a lady for her perfect trip. She lets loose a sigh and tenderly accepts my hand as I lead her outside of the faux travel agency and towards the limo. 

As we get closer to the vehicle, where the chauffeur in dress clothing is waiting for us to get into the limo, she asks cautiously, “If you’re the catch, but not like that, then how are you the catch?” 

I guide her towards the open door where the man greets us hello and closes the door once we get all the way in. The doors lock and the vehicle starts moving.

I give her my perfect smile again. 

“Well…because I’m sicker than those people, darling,” I say calmly. 

I love this moment, where the atmosphere changes as they come to a conclusion that's…close to what the actual realization will soon be. 

The catch? What a joke. 

“Sicker? Are you going to kidnap me?!” the woman exclaims in panic, trying to unbuckle herself out. I chuckle, which is definitely not helping to soothe her fears. 

“Of course not,” I say, sounding almost offended, her breathing slows just a little but of course she’s looking around, probably noting the locked doors, “I’m worse,” 

“What?” she nearly stutters, her breathing sharpening again. My face lightens and I smile with that stupid perfect smile, the one that's trusting. 

“I'm just kidding, I just wanted to mess around, I’m sorry if I actually scared you,” I say, giving a slight chuckle. Her muscles relax and she lets out a choked sigh. The catch, what really is the catch?

“Oh thank goodness, you really did have me scared there,” she replied, giving a slight smile, but it looks like it's quite terribly forced…it probably is. 

I smile back, “I’m hoping to one day become an actor, was my little performance good?” I ask. 

The limo hits a bump in the road and we jostle around in our seats. She looks at me nervously, probably still judging whether I was being serious or not.

Was I? I mean, I still don’t know what the catch is to be honest. We’re just going on a killer trip! Nothing bad, at least I don’t think so. 

“Yeah, your performance was a little too good,” she mutters slightly, looking into her lap at her phone. She looks at it before dramatically sighing and turning the phone off. 

“May I ask what that was about?” I ask, her green eyes cut sharply up at me. God they’re so green, they’re beautiful. 

She opens her mouth but before anything comes out we get jostled again. Jeez, there's so many bumps in this road, I might have to tell the driver to get on the real roads, even if it means taking longer to get to the cabin.

“Your eyes are beautiful,” I say before she says anything. Her mouth closes, and then she nods slightly. 

“Thank you,” she says almost, hesitantly. I nod, smiling. 

“You’re welcome,”

“My husband won’t answer my texts about the trip, that’s why I got frustrated a minute ago, so I guess it's just us on this trip,” she stated, answering my earlier question. I smile softly, no need for her to get freaked out again. 

“I'm sorry, pity he’s going to miss such a great trip,” I say softly, looking away to hide my smile. She nods, it kind of looks like she’s about to cry, I guess she was hoping he joined us. Maybe he’ll surprise her! But these days the women are just holding onto a string thinner than hair to their man’s heart. It’s heartbreaking to see such a beautiful woman in love with a man like her husband. What a shame.

It’s honestly such a pity really, doing things like this in this way, but it’s always for the best, they always have a choice in the end. Maybe the catch is choice? I’m not sure, that doesn’t make sense. 

The driver slows and I realize I've been lost in thought for a few hours as it's dark outside and the woman across from me is asleep. Some of them… appreciate the catch, others think it's a prank, some scream in horror and denial, those never really end well.

I nudge her shoulder and she wakes up pretty fast, her eyes wide and alert, almost terrified. I really didn’t mean to scare her that badly earlier, most of the others weren’t this freaked out. Maybe I should tone myself down just a bit more. 

“It’s okay, we’re just at the cabin I was talking about,” I say, my voice getting softer, I even add an edge of sleepiness into it, especially as it’s dark outside. I really should be an actor at this point. Acting out this stupid catch. What it even is, I wish I knew. 

“Oh wow, that was fast!” She says a little perkier than earlier. Maybe that nap really helped her calm her nerves a bit. I nod, and the vehicle slows to a park. The outside is a little brighter with the street lamps above us, causing a droopy orange hue on everything. 

The driver goes to her side and lets her step out and I follow. I watch as her eyes adjust to the light, the driver gives me a long look before heading into the cabin. Probably prepping for us to come inside. I need to wait a little longer for everything to be prepared properly. 

“It feels really nice out here doesn’t it?” I ask, making small talk as I step out of the immediate circle of light. Which is probably causing me to be a shadow. I step back in before she gets scared again. Sometimes I wish I had no morals like the ones I do have. Morals prevent so much from happening, sometimes I think it's not even worth having them. 

Maybe the catch is morals? I look up and she’s said something I didn’t hear. I smile softly, “I don’t think I understood what you said?”

“I think I’m ready to get inside the cabin, it's getting a little chilly,” she says, sounding slightly irritated with having to repeat what she’s said. I nod, and like perfect timing, the driver walks out of the cabin door and stands beside it, almost imitating the stance of a bodyguard. 

“Okay, let’s head in I guess,” I fall into step behind her and the driver opens the door for us before following us in. I need to answer the catch. I know I’m not the catch, I thought maybe it was me but I don’t think so anymore. I think it’s the choice. 

“Oh wow! It’s so nice and cozy here!” she exclaims looking around the interior. I have to agree, it’s definitely one of the better interiors of any place I’ve seen. The fireplace takes up half the wall and has a marble and wood base around it. Surrounding the fireplace is a light gray couch with pillows and blankets covering it.

The catch, I can’t believe it, I don’t know why I can’t figure out the actual catch. Maybe in the heat of the moment I will? Maybe once I ponder on it long enough it’ll sound good. I guess maybe the catch really is choice. 

I nod to the driver who then guides the woman down the hallway, I turn towards the kitchen off to the side. Turning on the faucet I splash some water on my face and I’m starting to feel truly awakened for this eventful night. I turn off the faucet and head to a different room down the hallway. 

I’ve learned the hard way to not remember people’s names, anybody you know anything about turns into a liability. And this woman doesn’t need to be a liability. She’s a victim, but she just doesn’t know it yet. She, like the others, are victims of choice, and it’s an impossible choice, but I always win in the end. 

I sigh as I pull open a drawer in my desk, the case sliding a little in the drawer before I pull it out. I open the case and place it on my desk. The gun, in all its glory, glittered menacingly at me, reflecting the lights off the ceiling. I pull it out and load it before closing the case and walking out, the gun in my back pocket.

The driver, he’s probably my most loyal guy, he’s been doing this with me for about a decade now. He’s standing in the hallway and nods at me, before knocking on the woman’s door as I enter another room. 

I turn around before I’m even all the way into the room, I love the moments before chaos. It's like time slows down, I can hear my breathing, the door to the woman’s room opens then shuts, I put on my smile for the last time as I hear her footsteps approach the door, and she finally walks in.

She starts screaming. 

My smile broadens to something far more wicked that I would care to witness, and I step around the woman to shut the door. Her breathing speeds up quite rapidly and she looks like she’s going to pass out from fear. 

“It’s okay, I’m not going to kill you,” I say, my voice soft and welcoming, my smile returning to something more human. I grab a chair near me and motion for her to sit. And I finally turn around. 

Oh the scene before me, just like countless others. The fearful confused wife sobbing in a chair, next to her husband passed out in a separate chair. I smile, this time I know what the “catch” is. But first, I must explain. 

“Ma’am, I know this is all terribly confusing and scary, but as bad as this is,” I gesture to the surrounding room, “I still uphold morals.” She looks at me quizzically, her breathing slowing to a more even pace, but her hands are still shaking. 

“And I don’t kill women, I absolutely will not. But your husband here, hired me, a hitman, to kill you,” I smile slightly at the look of confusion on her face, “but he forgot to read my terms, and in the fine print it says right here…” I find the paper on a neighboring chair and point it out to her. 

“It states “I will never kill a female or child; if you request a hit on either, you subject yourself to possible death..” or something similar,” I say, watching as she reads it. 

“This is legitimate?” seems to be the only question she can mutter. I nod, maybe I won’t have to convince her too hard. She sucks in a breath before sighing, “Are you going to kill him?”

I smile at her, “The catch, by the way, is a choice,”

“Choice? How?” her head cocks to the side a little bit. 

“You must choose whether or not he dies, and I know it sounds like a no brainer, you could just say don’t kill him and then you could divorce him later,” she nods, having come to the same conclusion. 

“But think, I was hired to kill you, why should he deserve life when he wanted you dead? If you get him sent to prison he’s not going to learn that much of a lesson,” 

She looks overwhelmed with the option, like most do. Most end up choosing for their husband to be killed after some thought and a little convincing.

“I’m going to leave you to think, but just know, your husband paid to have you killed and didn’t even check the terms because he was too excited to have you dead, at least think about yourself before you decide.”

Big fat tears roll down her cheeks and it's like those words cut the last of her restraint as she starts sobbing uncontrollably. I stand up to leave the room so she can think in privacy. 

“Wait,” I hear her whisper, almost inaudible. I turn, looking at her quizzically. There’s no way she’s already decided. 

“I love him too much, it hurts to hear he doesn’t” she sniffles, “but I can’t bear choosing him to get away unpunished,” there's a slight pause before she continues, “will…will you kill him?”. I nod, and step towards the door, motioning for her to do the same. 

We step out of the room and I tell the driver the final verdict. He nods and enters the room. Her love for her husband wasn’t too strong, and he will die, but not in front of her.

I guide her towards the vehicle outside, and she falls asleep in her seat. I guess the catch really was a choice. 

I know that the woman will have some trauma, and I'm sorry for her for that but she needed to know. And sometimes just telling them does nothing, sometimes I have to show them. 

I walk back inside, pulling the gun out and seeing that the driver has readjusted the man. Who is waking up slightly. 

“Your wife chose to have you killed,” I say nonchalantly, and I pull my gun out of the back pocket. He looks at me terrified before slowly sagging his head in defeat.

“Any last words?” I ask, I’ll at least give him the honor of that. The man shakes his head no. I slowly lift the gun up towards him.

Soon the woman will move on, being free of him after his last breath. And she will find another person to be the love of her life, and falls back into the grips of love.

I turn the safety off, and press the barrel against his head. 

For love may control all, but death always wins. 

Boom.