MURDER AND I

I knew I would not be able to do it from the moment they said it. It wasn't going to be that simple, not at all. It looked simple to them, alright. Murder is simple to some people. Really simple. As simple as walking to the grocery store across your street. As simple as talking to your best friend on the phone. As simple as normal daily activities. That's because it's their habitual activity, I mean for serial killers. Just like it's easy for you and I to eat breakfast, because we do it everyday...it's the same for them. It's easy to screw a knife into someone's stomach because they do it on a daily basis. They enjoy it. However, it takes real planning (you know, it's always nice to leave the cops a little mystery to solve). They enjoy the chase, they enjoy watching the cops planning how to catch them, they enjoy the cops bringing in wrong suspects, they enjoy it being talked about on TV, they enjoy every bit of fame that their new murder has caused...every bit of it. 

Well, not me. I won't enjoy it. I don't want to be famous for something like that. I can just see it in my head already - MURDER MADE ME FAMOUS. Damn! I want to be famous, alright. But not for murder, never for murder. I wanted the money of course. I still want it real bad. I know they say, 'No pain, no gain.' I'll explain- my pain is to kill my best friend. No big deal, you know. I'll just take her somewhere, anywhere. Pretend I wanted to take a walk with her in a really quiet and far place. Then strike, they said. Stab her with a pocket knife. Stab and stab and stab until you sure she's almost gone....then you leave her there, to finally die. I hate the thought of it. I can see it in my head though- a sidewalk stained with blood, a young lady breathless by the side, silently gasping for air...for help, silently wondering what she ever did to deserve a death like that.

Then, what's my gain? Money. Not just any amount of money, but two million dollars. It's going to be mine, if only I can kill my best friend. 

I still wonder how I got myself in this trash at times. It was in June. I was desperate for a job (being jobless without cash is a slow killer). So I printed my name and number in a paper and pasted it on street walls, restaurants...almost everywhere I could think of. I waited three months. I received no calls, no texts, nothing...nothing at all. I lost hope, I thought, maybe I'm meant to be jobless. Then I got a call. They started by telling me the huge amount of money that could be mine (the two million dollars). They had said that the job wasn't so hard (you know what I say about murder being real simple for some people?), and if I was extremely desperate for a job. I said yes, that I could do anything (I curse my mouth for ever saying those words). They said that once they told me what the job was, I couldn't refuse to do it, I couldn't back away from it. I was curious. What was this job? I said I was brave, that I don't run away from things. They said that's the spirit! And told me again that once they told me what the job was, I was to do it at all cost. I said okay. What in the world was I thinking?

So a meeting was scheduled in MacDonald's. I believe sitting with those three guys with bulgy eyes was one of the most uncomfortable things that ever happened to me. They slipped out a picture of a lady - my best friend. They said it was all simple. All I needed was to assassinate her. Real simple, right? Fire a bullet in her head if I was too scared of stabbing with knifes, they said. What they did not know was that all forms of death scared the hell out of me, that, I couldn't kill anyone, no matter the method. They warned me about the cops. If I told them, they would make sure I'd find myself in a pit, bleeding to death. 

It was then I knew what I had gotten myself into. I wanted to wake up from a dream. I was having a massive headache, the kind that threatens to make someone's head explode. I felt nauseated, I was sick to my stomach. I felt my eyes spin and I wanted to kick the table and walk away. But I had already been told the job. I couldn't back out. I couldn't refuse. I couldn't say no. 

Now I sit and ponder on what to do. I can't betray my best friend like that. It's not a matter of who the person is though (in case you think I don't want to kill someone only because I'm close to her), the thing is that I don't think I am capable of murder. I'll have dreams and nightmares...I just can't. I think of their threats, I think of myself bleeding to death and I wonder if I should just end it all - write a goodbye letter to everyone and then throw a rope over the fan with my neck inside it. But I'm scared. I'm scared of death. I’m scared of dying. Any method of it, be it suicide or assassination. For now, I'll bury my face in my hands and cry till my eyes turn red and my eyeballs want to pop out, I'll roll on the floor and curse my bad luck, I'll scream and want to stab myself, I'll punch the wall till my fists hurt so bad, I'll take my sleeping pills (I can't seem to fall asleep on my own), I'll wait for the dizziness the effect brings, and I'll find myself in a quiet world, falling down in a world without a floor, and I'll wish I could stay there forever.