Fiction

Killing Simon

The following is my long overdue weekly contribution to the 500 Club. I don’t know that it’s my best work, but it was sure fun to write. I have long been intrigued by the idea of assassins, but I’ve never thought to write from the point of view of one.

Seeing the prompts for this week I realized it was high time I remedied that. Hope you enjoy.

killing simon

Honestly, it was Simon that did it.

He was a decent enough guy. He treated me well, no question about that. He was great in bed, handsome, charming, wealthy and he was certainly intelligent. However, he was also insecure. I have a difficult time with insecurity.

Perhaps this is because I accepted my own sexual preference a long time ago. I couldn’t care less what anyone else thinks of it. Perhaps this is because I have made a living killing people. One cannot be overly insecure when one’s chosen craft is extinguishing human life. Perhaps this is because I was growing bored of him and he sensed it.

Whatever the case, I dumped him. He was painfully dramatic about it. We had only been seeing each other for 8 months. It wasn’t like we were soulmates. But he pitched a shit-fit, crying and screaming, begging me to stay. He said that he would never love another man like he loved me.

Really.

I dismissed it and left. We weren’t living together, so I returned to my own apartment and my own life. But he began a tireless campaign to regain my attention. He called. He wrote emails and pathetic text messages. I spotted him more than once driving past my building. He even followed me out one night while I was on my way to do my job. Not that it was any trouble to lose an inexperienced tail, but it annoyed me to no end that he simply wouldn’t let the matter drop.

One afternoon I received yet another text message from Simon. It was immediately followed by an email from my handler to procure my services. I think it was the close proximity of the two that put the idea in my head. At least, I hope it was. I’m a killer, yes, but I like to think that I’m no barbarian.

Nevertheless, a solution to the Simon situation occurred to me at that moment. I could simply kill him.

I planned it out in my mind. I considered location, weapon, timing and even a couple of ironic touches just to satisfy my own vengeful nature. The idea made me smile.

That night I had a dream. I saw former marks. They spoke, condemning me. Not for murder, but for allowing my own humanity to wither and die. When I woke, I didn’t want to go back to sleep for fear they would still be there, still pointing their boney fingers while their dry voices proclaimed I’d become more than an assassin. Something worse. Someone who would kill to avoid an annoyance.

I emailed my handler at 5:37 am. I told her I was out. Out because of fucking Simon. Then I tossed and turned for nearly 4 hours.

At 9:31 am Simon sent the following text message: “miss u much. pls call when u can. i know ur busy…but i know u miss me, 2.”

At 9:32 am I turned off my phone.

And then I slept like the dead.