Light in the dark

Why does one turn to the darkness?

To escape hunger? To gain wealth? To gain power? To escape the tribulations of life?

For religion? For lust? For fame? For recognition and respect?

Whatever the reason, whether it was with good intentions or to fill an empty void inside, once you become one with the darkness, you will never be able to leave.

It clings to you, fills your entire being.

At first, you enjoy the feeling, you revel in it. It is addicting after all. The sweet feeling that comes with excitement and danger.

Like a drug, you start to abuse it. From the occasional hit to the daily dose. Soon you need your fix every hour, maybe every couple of minutes.

When you step into the light you start to feel withdrawals. Anger, panic, unease.

The darkness is calling you back, and you want to go!

The feeling of sunlight scares you. Yes, it scares you.

It makes you remember different times, mundane but peaceful times.

Then, you face a crossroads. The fatal choice of plunging into the darkness headfirst or turning back.

Jumping in is easy, turning back is hard. With no light to guide you, would anyone even be able to escape?

Standing above a man in a dark ally I was faced with this choice.

Blood had dyed my clothes creating a devil like a spectacle for the young man that I was supposed to kill. Littered all around us were lifeless bodies. Bodies of people that I had personally sent on their way.

For them, I had carried no hesitation when striking them down. Not even a single passing thought.

It was only when my eyes laid upon him that I had started to feel a subtle sense of hesitation.

It was not that strong at first, but it slowly made its way up my fingers and threw the palm of my hand that was holding the knife.

As blood slowly pooled into the cracks in the concrete the man, who was not that handsome, laid on the ground gazed deeply into my eyes.

Like an open book, his eyes betrayed the emotions that he was trying to hide. The fear, pain, and hidden deeply under both of those feelings was the anger.

Anger so strong that I doubted that it could be because of me. My hands had been stained with thousands of people, but the number of people that I had seen who had a gaze like his could be counted on a single hand.

Of course, you would feel anger towards your murder, but without time to process the events, you would not be able to create anger that strong.

Even if a couple of fingers were chopped off I could still count the number of people on it.

As I stood leisurely above him, I could not help but think of another pair of eyes. A dark green pair with an icy blue ring. One that when she thought no one else was looking, revealed the hatred inside.

Should I complete my mission, or should I let him go?

As I was caught in a quandary, the object of my current emotional dilemma opened his lips for the first time since I started the massacre.

While trying to sound confident and friendly he, without feeling any shame from trying to poach someone else's assassin, asked a question.

"You don't want to kill me right?"

His voice was shaking as he tried to stay composed.

"Are you doing this for money? I can get you a job as my bodyguard or assistant. You could take as much time off as you want and I can pay you whatever you want."

As I stared at him in confusion, wondering where he got the confidence to ask something like that, he continued.

Seeing my silence as a good sign, he stretched out his hand.

"My name is William King. Would you, sir, give me the honour of becoming my... Friend?"

He tried to stay composed till the very end but, even though he tried to hide it, I still spotted his left-hand betraying by quivering slightly.

When was that last time I had the luxury of having a friend?

Most people had at least one friend at every point in their lives, right? Then should I try to live again?

While we were having our conversation the blood did not stop gushing out from the bodies surrounding us. With each second that passed, more blood joined the small stream that pooled at my feet.

In the cold, winter night I stood there drenched in other peoples blood. In front of me was a scared little 'kid.'

Sweat glistened on the palm that was waiting.

Waiting for the decision that would decide whether or not he would be killed right here. The decision that could have him home by the morning, or just another dead body on the cold, hard cement.

Smirking underneath my face mask, I decided to accept his proposal.

"Sure, I will become your... Bodyguard. You have to something for me first though."

Reaching forward, I grabbed his hand and pulled him in close. Bringing my lips right next to his ear I laughed softly.

As gentle as an angle, I whispered into his ear the words of a devil.

"You know who set you up right? There is only one person that could have done that. So, for the benefit of both you and I, I want him dead."

Pulling away, I leaned against the wall. I could not help but laugh at the sight before me.

His body shivered as if his body was trying to deny what I had said but his head was telling him the harsh truth.

He had been betrayed. He would not be here if he hadn't, and his best friend and business partner was the only one that could have done it.

It was ridiculous.

This man before me, a famed genius, had not thought about who had betrayed him, or maybe he stopped himself from thinking about it.

I could never have gotten this close to him without that mans help. Usually, William King was surrounded by a large array of security forces.

Every destination that he ever travelled to was checked thoroughly days before he even arrived.

This might seem excessive to some, but without these precautions, I probably would have killed him a long time ago.

Lots of people wanted this man dead, yet I, who was given the perfect chance to kill him, had decided to spare his life.

Isn't it funny how that world works?

You try so hard to do something, but in the end, it does not matter. You lose interest in your goal and find something new to chase after.

Right now, William King had become my new goal, my new obsession.

With his help, I might actually be able to get the one thing that matters to me anymore, revenge!

Under the dark, dismal sky, I watched William King pull out his phone and sign the death warrant for someone who was once his best friend.

The sent of rusty iron that was ever present on my body was carried far and wide by the wind that started to pick up.

His soft words seemed to be swallowed up by the night, leaving him looking weightless and helpless. As is he too would be carried away by the midnight winds.

The problem with having friends is that they can be used to hurt you.

That is why, for someone like me, they are a luxury.

Something I long for, but would never be able to afford in reality.