A Reflection, Pt. III

Death. What a fascinating subject - our first real breakthrough...

"But you know what? I think she knew. I didn't have the guts to say it, but she knew."

Not even God would've prepared me for what came next.

"I should've married her."

Whoa.

"She was the only one I've ever met who didn't judge me as soon as she met me. And trust me, if you meet me, it ain't a social event. If there's any time to judge someone, it's when they turn out to be the one sent to kill you."

I couldn't argue with him on that point. Not that I wanted to argue with someone who would snap my neck if the notion ever seemed pleasing to him.

"Yet she never did. I don't know why; it would've made the job so much easier. I don't have to think about putting two in the brainpan when they're cursing and spitting at me. It's actually funny. They kneel there, yelling "FUCK Y-" BOOM-BOOM, and they're done. Sorry 'bout the language. But not her. She just turned around, kneeled, and waited."

He drifted off into a sort of daze, his face a mask of mingling emotions. I tried to decipher his thoughts, but like everytime before, it was impossible. Just what was it that made this man, who had killed so many people for such trivial causes, who was so completely unafraid of anything in this world, ask for a chaplain?

"She haunts me. Well, I guess they all haunt me in one way or another, but even the WAY she haunts me is different. Usually it's sort of like a minor case of deja vu, but with her - I can still see her, smell her, hear her... But I had to leave her behind. It wouldn't have been fair otherwise. Oh, I don't care if the employer gets pissed off. I can get rid of myself in a hurry if I need to. But it wouldn't have been fair to her. Don't get me wrong, she wasn't exactly Mother Teresa. If she was, I wouldn't have gotten to meet her. But still... I couldn't have done that to her."

Who exactly WAS this woman, that she could soften this man's cold, hard heart into a state of compassion?


"So I asked her to save me a spot next to her in Hell, so we could have some fun pissing off the Devil together. She laughed, said "Sure thing, handsome" and closed her eyes. I've never tried so hard to make it a perfect kill, but I know she went fast and painless. That has to count for something, doesn't it Padre?"

I had no answer to that question.

"I mean, how else does a guy kill the woman he loves?"

Or for that.

A Reflection, Pt. II

"Someone asked me if I had faith. That one caught me off guard for some reason. I mean, usually they ask if I believe in God, or Allah, or whatever the f-- heck they believe in. That's easier. I say 'No,' cuz I don't, finish the job, and leave. But this was different. Do I have faith...?"

What followed was a silence that can only be described as ponderous, as if he was really thinking about the question. After what seemed like an acceptable period (remembering that he is a killer), I gently coaxed him to continue with a choked and timid "Do you?"

"I had to stop and think about it for a bit. Finally, I had to say 'yes'. Y'know what she said then? I can remember it clear as if it happened 2 minutes ago. 'Then never let it go. Whatever it is that you believe in, never let it go.' I didn't understand what she meant until my last job." He sighed, "God she was beautiful. And she got it. She got it."

I wasn't sure what he meant by that. She "got it"? I could only assume he meant that she understood why he was supposed to kill her. Then he said this:

"Which means she got me."

Interesting. "She got you?"

"Yeah. She got me. And all of a sudden I didn't have the heart to tell her that the only thing I have faith in is Death."