More Than a Bargain

How many months has it been? Two? Three? I lost count. My friends and family have left me to rot. It seems that they’ve given up on a jobless 35-year-old man who has no future. Was it my fault that the company I worked for would close down? I spent years of my life in that tiny cubicle, slaving away for a meager salary. What did I get in return? Nothing but misery. Because of my ungodly work hours, I never had time to socialize let alone get a girlfriend or a wife. It sure is pitiful. Now, I am living in a derelict apartment that stinks of mildew and old wood. Cans of beer and take-out containers are strewn about anywhere you can see. The landlord told me that this room looks like a pigsty. I agree with him. After all, even a pig has a better life than I have. I waste away my days in front of my computer playing games or watching porn. For money, I do odd jobs here and there when people request help and for the rest of the time, I rely on government hand-outs. Pathetic if I say so myself. I have no energy, no will to live, but no courage to kill myself. One of my questionable friends jokingly recommended I look at the dark web to pass the time. He said that it was more interesting than anything I could ever hope or imagine. I shrugged it off for a while but now, I am in front of my computer, using a search engine that reeks of suspicion and looking at the blinking cursor to write my words in the search bar. There’s a fear of being hacked and killed by strangers but honestly, they’d be doing me a favor if they did that. In any case, I surfed it and discovered quickly the underbelly of the human race. Drug and human trafficking, kidnapping, torture livestreams, the list goes on. It was a horrid sight but I can’t look away. There were times when I would almost vomit but like a car accident, the screen just magnetizes my vision. Then, when I am almost lost to the torrent of the dark web, I received an e-mail. 

“Dear Mr. Webber, we see that you have discovered the dark web and are consuming its content at a rapid rate. We would like to issue a survey if that is ok with you. Click the attached link to go to the survey. -P” 

What’s this strange e-mail? I looked at the e-mail address and it looks like a thirteen-year-old made it. Is someone pranking me? But how do they know my last name? My eyes gravitate towards the link. Should I click it? Actually, why am I hesitating? I decided that nothing matters anymore right? I hovered the cursor on the link and suddenly, a lump on my throat appears. I swallow but it doesn’t disappear. I’m nervous. But I click it anyway. I was then sent to a typical survey website similar to Buzzfeed’s format. 

“Are they gonna survey me about what Disney Princess I am? If so, I already did and I am apparently Mulan,” I find myself joking to the stagnant air. 

I peruse through the website and see the glaring “START SURVEY” option at the bottom. I click it and then, the first question came. 

“Are you tired of the life you’re living?” 

Strange for a starting question. It seems to be a “yes and no” survey. Honestly, the question really hits hard but I answered “yes”. The questions continued. 

“Does anyone care about you enough that they’d be devastated if you died?” 

“No” 

“If you disappeared, would anyone be looking for you?” 

“No” 

Well, maybe the credit card companies I borrowed money from. 

“Have you seen much of the dark web’s content?” 

“Yes” 

“Do you fear death?” 

Now the questions are starting to sound more creepy than strange. Hesitantly, I gave it my answer. 

“Yes” 

“Would you like a fresh start?” 

At this point, the fear and hesitation I was experiencing faded into nothing. Without me knowing, tears suddenly flowed from my eyes. All this time, did all I ever want was a fresh start? Is that the reason why I couldn’t bring myself to end it all by gobbling sleeping pills? Here I am, a 35-year-old grown ass man, sobbing like a baby from a survey question. Soon enough, I pulled myself together and answered. 

“Yes” 

“Do you approve of the dark web?” 

A strange question from a survey that came from the dark web. Do I agree with what I saw? If they were real, certainly not. Wait, real? I never actually thought of that. Then, as if on cue, the memories of the content that I watched flooded my brain and I felt sick. So sick that I had to run to the washroom and purge my stomach as if doing so is purging my mind from what I watched hours prior. I returned to my computer much weaker than before and gave my answer. 

“No” 

After that, the page loaded, and my computer suddenly shuts down. 

“What the...” 

I tried to restart it but my CPU won’t turn on anymore. I sigh. I guess this is what I get for searching the dark web. Defeated, I crumpled to the floor and let sleep take me. As I was about to fall into darkness, a knock reverberated throughout the room. I jolted up and rushed towards the door. 

“Who is it?” I yelled. No answer. 

I looked through the peep hole and saw no one. Strange. I gingerly opened the door and looked from left to right of the long hallway. There was no one in sight. Maybe it was the neighbor. There was no way someone can knock on the door and disappear without running. The walls are thin so if they ran, I would have heard it. I looked down as I noticed something in my peripheral. It was a singular folder neatly placed on the floor. It’s thick and looks important. I glanced at the hallway again. Convinced that there was no one there, I went back to my room. I turned on the light in the room for the first time in what felt like eternity and sat on the couch. I took a deep breath and opened the folder gently. The first page was a letter. 

“Mr. Webber, 

Congratulations on passing our exam. You are eligible to work as a hitman for the Assassin’s Association. You are required to attend training for the next four years if you so choose to join us. This folder is all of the information that we gathered about you. Upon joining the Association, we will delete your current identity and give you a new one. This is the “fresh start” that you wanted no? In any case, should you choose to refuse, agents will come immediately and erase any recollection you might have. You have thirty minutes to answer. You can reply yes to this message by burning these documents in the trash can that you use as a hearth on your balcony. Looking forward to working with you. 

-P” 

I didn’t even notice up until this point but my eyes are wide as saucers and my mouth is agape. A hitman? What is this? My mind is reeling but somehow my feet found the cold metal that is the balcony. It could be a prank but what if it wasn’t? Could I start my life over? I looked at the ashen remains of what I burned last night. I chuckled to myself. My life has been so blurred that I don’t even remember what I burned. I threw the folder in there and then my lighter after it. In no time, a column of black smoke rose up and the last thing I saw was the shine of a needle before everything went black.