hard truth

“I quit.”

.

.

.

Georgia never thought much of her job. 

It was morally dubious, no doubt. 

It was damning even. If you were the religious/morally upright type.

And the police would have a field day if any of them slipped up and did something illegal that could be proven. But Georgia never really liked focusing on the dreary ‘what-if’s’ of her job. 

Besides, she wasn’t the one who went out and silenced the people. She was just the one who managed the requests for their services. So if they were ever accused of any law-breaking she would get the lighter sentence. And, unlike some of her colleagues, she had no lover or children to take care of. She only had to take care of herself. 

(Even in her mind Georgia used those politically acceptable terms for the deed. That was how good she was at her job.)

Unlike her colleagues who only had to attend when they had a mission, she was expected to show up to work within certain hours. 

(Not that every mission ended with the absence of the selected. No. Sometimes the selected only lost their job, career, family, reputation or money. In fact, a request for silence wasn’t often.)

So… yeah.

Georgia had a 9-5 office job where she answered company emails all day.

She didn’t do anything wrong.

The young woman never had much reason to flinch at the requests. It was a stranger wishing an accident on another stranger. All she had to do was find the one who set the stage and respond whether or not the deed can be done. In fact, her colleagues who went out and prepared everything often called her ‘bright eyes’. (Okay, only one collegeu, Jake, but he was enough.) Simply for the fact that her smile never wavered from pleasant, no matter the case.

But that Monday morning was different. 

Since… for the first time since she started her job Georgia recognized the name in her work inbox. 

Sivapriya Patel. 

Her next door neighbor.

.

.

.

Georgia used to be close to Dallas, her brother. He was her brother. They shared their black skin and big lips and bigger eyes. They were twins. 

Except when Dallas grew taller Georgia grew wider. 

They used to call each other regularly. Group call. Message random anecdotes in the group chat. He would come to her apartment for dinner once a month. And she would come to his house to have dinner with his wife once every two months. 

His wife, her name is Odile Opoku. She is beautiful and kind. And at their wedding Georgia was pleased that her husband found such a beautiful woman to marry. Odile was expecting. 

Dallas. 

He- he was a vet. A veterinarian. He healed animals. He was a doctor for puppers. 

So. How does a vet get his name in a company like hers?

.

.

.

She hasn’t opened the email yet. 

She only saw the email address, and the subject. The name of the victim.

sivapriya.j.patel@outlook.com

Dallas Kimathi

.

.

.

Siva was her close friend. She was quiet and insightful. 

What could Siva want with a company like this?

Siva, who was happy in her apartment. 

(“Morning Georgia!” Siva greeted cheerfully, from her living room. Her door was open and she was in clear view of the door. Doing yoga. 

“Morning Siva,” Georgia smiled, lingering by the door, tucking her hands into her coat pocket. “Why is your door open?”

“I wanted to catch you on your way out.”

Some warmth flooded her cheeks but Georgia didn’t let her smile falter. “You could have shot me a text.”

Siva shot her a calm smile, humoured and exasperated. “This was the only way that ensured results.”

“Ah, so…?”

Siva smiled brightly, “I made too much curry last night. Join me for dinner?”

Georgia nodded dumbly, before catching herself and saying. “Y-eah. I-i’ll bring some cake.

Siva’s smile was beautiful, “Lovely.” )

Siva, who listened to comedians as she cleaned,

(Her door was open again.

Siva was standing there, a broom in hand- staring right at her phone. Shoulders shaking with silent laughter. 

“Your door is open again,” Georgia noted.

Without tearing her eyes off her phone or skipping a beat, Siva replied, “It’s always open for you.”)

Siva, who baked and brought her cookies.

(Siva knocked on the door. 

She knew it was Siva because Siva had been blasting Bruno Mars. Which she does when she bakes. And Siva always bakes too much, and she always brings some of her treats to Georgia.

Georgia could admit to making sure that she was within hearing distance of the door for the tell-tale knock. 

Georgia opened the door.

And sure enough, there stood Siva. Holding a hot pink tupperware of cookies.

“Hi neighbor!”)

And… What could Siva have against her brother?

.

.

.

Between the two of them, Dallas was the troublemaker. Mostly since Georgia was afraid of disappointing her parents and Dallas wasn’t.

But even when Georgia screwed up- Dallas took the blame.

(“Oh my god,” Ma whirled around and looked right at Georgia. “Georgia did you-”

“It was me,” Dallas lied, stepping forward. “I broke it.”

“Then why are her hands dirty?”

“She was helping me try to clean it up. She told me to wash my hands.”)

He was her hero.

.

.

.

U,

I’ve never made a request like this before. Hopefully this is the first and last time.

I need you to castrate Dallas Kimathi. Whether it’s because of sudden surgery gone wrong, an unfortunate accident- anything. He needs to lose his dick. (Don’t be too concerned, he already has a baby on the way.) The lady told me that I don’t need to state a reason- but if I do then you couldn’t deny me. 

Well, my reason is that he raped me. In my own office.  My office was in my own home.

I have security cameras inside and outside my office. I usually used them to look over what my patients said, to study them. I didn’t think I’d ever have to use it for something like this.

I attached the video to this email..

Please respond with how much the process would cost.

.

.

.

Georgia watched the video. 

With horrified eyes.

As her brother offered Siva a cup of coffee. As Siva went limp. As he went around her desk.

She hated how fast and hard her heart was beating in her chest.

.

.

.

She readied a response to tell Siva how much the procedure would cost- when another email came through.

.

.

.

DallasKimathi@hotmail.com

Sivapriya Patel.

The email read; 

Make it quick. And make it look like an accident. No damage to the building or surrounding area.

Contact me with the cost.

.

.

.

If she denied his offer then he would just ask someone else.

...should she just kill him?

That couldn't be her brother, 

Was Siva lying? Was the video forged?

Was she going to escape this unscathed?

.

.

.

She sucked in a deep breath, before looking up. Eyes wet with tears.

"Jake, I need your help."