|
Order this writing in the collection book Revealing All Your Dirty Little Secrets available for only $1995 |
 |
| |
This appears in a pre-2010 issue
|
|
|
|
| ||
Assassin
Barton Hill
Was there anything you were really good at? Were you a great athlete, or a great speller or perhaps a great driver?
I was great once. I was an assassin.
My first assassination, murder actually, occurred while I was in high school. My first victim was Monica.
Monica wasn’t your typical girl-next-door type. She had an average body, dark shoulder-length hair, a round face with sharp features, and high cheekbones. She also had a good-nature vibe about her, an easy smile and a bit of a flirtatious attitude.
Things had been going smoothly between Monica and me until the night of her death. We had first met at the beginning of our senior year and, after a couple of months, we became an item on campus. We connected on every level. There was nothing that could stand in our way or keep us from spending the rest of our lives together. We had grand notions and wild dreams.
But, before I explain what happened, I first want to describe a little of what took place shortly before, and on the day of our prom. I had a rented tux, bought Monica a corsage and had rented a limousine. Monica had bought a new dress, had her hair styled, borrowed some of her mother’s jewelry and had her nails done. Around 7:30 that night I arrived at her house, greeting her parents at the door. In the foyer I pinned the corsage on her dress and we then posed for a few embarrassing pictures.
We met our friends at the dance and did the usual things kids do at a prom. We danced, ate, laughed, and spent as much time out in the parking lot as we did in the school’s decorated gym.
As things were beginning to quiet down, Monica and I went to a hotel to continue the party. Several of our friends were there, including my best friend Chris.
I would say three hours later we were all either drunk or stoned. Perhaps not what our parents were thinking we’d do, but hey, we were kids.
I don’t remember much about what happened that night, but I have been able to piece most of the chain of events together.
Apparently I saw Monica kissing Chris in the hotel bedroom. Monica had her back turned to me and I noticed her dress was partly unzipped. Chris was sliding his hand down her back toward her waist.
I freaked. I pulled out the pocketknife my dad had given me and I lunged toward Chris. But since he was stronger that me, and wasn’t as drunk, he was able to push me aside. As I stumbled around the room trying to catch my footing I made another stab toward who I thought was Chris, but instead it was Monica. Instead of cutting Chris, I stabbed Monica in her neck.
I was convicted and sentenced as a juvenile. My being convicted as a juvenile had more to do with whom my father is than with my age. My dad is a very powerful and influential man in this state. Making a fortune constructing highways and bridges.
At least, that’s what he tells people he does for a living.
Truth be known, he is a crime boss, a kingpin, or even a Godfather to some. I didn’t know about this secret identity prior to prom night, but one learns a lot of nasty things while serving time.
Once released, it didn’t take me long to start working for my dad. In the beginning I worked as a messenger and courier. Then, as I got more respect I was given certain opportunities to rise in the ranks. Shortly, these opportunities involved the elimination of certain individuals who did not agree with my dad or with his organization.
I have to admit I became very good at what I did. But, because I was so good I became careless. I even bragged about my assignments. You’d think that the one thing someone ought to learn in this business is how to keep his mouth shut. Oh, well...
Eventually, I was apprehended, prosecuted and tried by a “jury of my peers” for a contract killing that I had carried out against a rival mob family. While the state was trying me for this particular murder, a strange turn of events took place in the trial.
During the trial it was revealed that my old man had orchestrated the death of Monica. My defense team had somehow learned that my dad was the central figure behind Monica’s death. My lawyer used this revelation to show the jury that I was a messed-up person, and couldn’t be held completely responsible for my killings since I had this horrible incident early on in my life.
The defense argued that the governor had pissed off my dad over a contract. So my dad retaliated against the governor by having his favorite niece, Monica, terminated in order to demonstrate that no one was invulnerable to his cruelty. My old man paid the chauffeur to slip me some psychotropic drugs that would make me lose my ability to think clearly and become violent. I suppose something similar to the PCP that was once given to soldiers.
When I saw Chris with Monica I pulled out the knife my father had given to me earlier that day as a present. I unleashed my anger and jealousy on the cheating couple. I have heard that Chris was also aware of the plan. The rat-bastard.
Now, here I am sitting in a psychiatric hospital being fed more drugs than your local pharmacy has in stock. I am more than sedated -- I have zero willpower. I sit here watching the hands on the clock move from one hour to the next.
Would that be considered time-out-of-mind or is it mind-out-of-time?
+ + + + +
“Doctor, how is my son? Any improvement this past month?”
“No, Sir. He still believes that he was an assassin.”
