Sometimes Bad People Just Can't Stop Doing What They Do Best

There’s no going back now.  No hiding the fact that I’m a horrible human.  I am the scum of the Earth, and no one should have to breathe the same air that I do.  But nothing is going to change what I’ve done now.  No one will forgive me, and those I’ve affected will not forget what I’ve done.  I kidnapped a young girl and murdered a young woman who cried and begged for her life over a live radio broadcast signal.  The only comfort I can take from these events is that I got to end her life quickly.  The death blow was brutal and nasty, but at least it was quick.  My employer told me that the gun was only meant to scare, and not to be used as the killing weapon.  No, the weapon I used was far more brutal and literally knocked the life out of that woman’s head.  Her name was Cassie, and I took the life from her eyes once that iron sledgehammer went straight through her frontal lobe.  

I’ve spent most of my adult life as a hitman of sorts.  I was never called a hitman, just the guy you’d call if you wanted someone gone.  I never wore a fancy suit and tie or was proud of my marks, but I just did it to get by.  I knew Nisha since I was a teen and was best friends with her cousin.  I ended up getting drunk one night and I killed him by crashing into him with my car.  I tried to get him to the hospital, but it was too late.  He died instantly, and there was no saving him from his head trauma.  I ran away from my life that night.  I never wanted to have to face Nisha and tell her that I killed her cousin, someone she was as close to as a sister.  I changed my name and joined up with the gangs.  I wasn’t proud of my actions, but there was no other life for me.  I would either rot in prison or fight my way through what remained of my life.  I chose to fight.

I had to prove that I could be a member of my gang.  I chose to omit their name to protect the identity of the gang I killed for, just in case I go out in gunfire.  No one should have to suffer because of the acts that I have committed.  I gained notoriety amongst my gang and began to develop a name for myself amongst the gang members.  One of the lead members of the gang liked giving everyone nicknames based off of traits he saw in them.  Once you were given a name, you had to earn it and become it to be recognized as a true member of the gang and for them to have your back.  I was given the nickname “El Cucuy”, a Latino legend that mothers would tell their children whenever they would misbehave.  “El Cucuy” is similar to the “Bogeyman”, and was feared by those who recognized the danger the “Bogeyman” brought.  It was up to me to prove that I could be called “El Cucuy” by my gang and become a true member.  It was a chance for me to gain the support of a “family” again, and I was willing to do anything to prove myself.  

There was a list in one of the main warehouses that drugs and guns would be housed in and shipped out of where faces were put up on the gang’s “Wanted Wall”.  Each face marked a bounty on their heads and a distinction of whether or not they were wanted “Dead”, “Alive”, or “Dead or Alive”.  I never cared about the money, I only cared about making my mark and taking out all of the wanted targets.  I was never clumsy or sloppy in securing my targets.  I had a special warehouse on the East coast I took all of my targets too.  My tactics were smooth.  Infiltrate a public area they were in, isolate them in a discrete location, knock them out either with an ether rag and have little resistance, or give them a swift punch with my brass knuckles to the head.  I said I wasn’t sloppy, I never said that I wasn’t brutal.  I did whatever it took to isolate my target, and whatever it took to complete my mission.

Sometimes the clients who placed the bounty on my target would want me to torture them, get certain information out of them, or even brutalize the target themselves before I neutralized them with a bullet to the brain.  I never showed any remorse or guilt for what I did to them.  I should have felt something, but it just never seemed to bother me.  I waited, every time before I pulled the trigger, a bit after, and even waited after I tossed the body in the water.  I cleared all of my targets out and cleared that old “Wanted Wall” clean of any new targets. Remorse, guilt, shame, none of it ever came to me after killing my targets, that was until today.

My boss wanted to make me his right-hand man, but he wasn’t sure if I was ready for it yet, so he had one last mission I had to fulfill before I earned my spot as his right-hand man of destruction.  I had to prove that I was hard enough to take the life of anyone.  He told me to kidnap my old friend Nisha’s daughter, Cara and to make sure that I showed no mercy.  For the first time in my life, I stopped in my tracks and felt a sense of dread and horror as I realized that my boss not only knew about Nisha but about her daughter.  I wanted to back out then, but backing out from a direct order from the boss meant death.  I made my plans and arranged to kidnap Cara and to take her to the warehouse.

I waited outside of the daycare for hours, laying low and avoiding suspicion.  I saw the perfect opportunity to take Cara, but she was grabbed by one of the daycare employees and placed inside of their personal car.  They were trying to take Cara home personally, but that wasn’t going to happen.  I snuck out of my car, mask already covering my face, hopped in the back of the car and covered the woman’s face with an ether rag.  I then placed her body in the back seat of the car and began driving the car.  Cara began to whine and try to scream.

“Help!  Help!  A stranger is kidnapping me!  Help!”  I didn’t want to do anything to Nisha’s kid, but I couldn’t just let her keep screaming out the car window, so I placed the ether rag over her mouth until she fell asleep.  I felt disgusting for putting Cara to sleep, but it was the only way I would make it to the warehouse without her getting me pulled over and caught.  I arrived at the warehouse and dragged both Cara and her caretaker inside.  I placed both of them in chairs and tied them up.  I put bags over their heads and began to set up the warehouse camera.  I started the recording and hit the woman who was screaming for her boyfriend named John.  She passed out after that hit and it was long enough for me to finish making the video.  I called one of the loyal gang members who worked with me and had him drop off the disk at Nisha’s office.  It took awhile before Nisha received the video and called.  Cara woke up in the meantime and kept trying to call for her mother to come save her.  No one could hear her outside the warehouse, so I let her stay awake.  She kept screaming for her mother and begging me not to kill her.  I sat there on a stool and let her voice echo.  I couldn’t believe what I was about to do, but there was nothing else for me to do.  I couldn’t decide for myself whether or not to do it, so I made the choice Nisha’s to make.  

I got the call and screamed at her to make her decision.  I put the phone next to Cara so she could talk to her mother.  Cara asked her mother to save her and I told her to hurry and make her choice.  I hesitated until the last moment when I heard her say a phrase I will never forget “Sometimes good people do bad things, Cara.”  I felt a slight sense of relief when she picked 1 and chose to spare her daughter’s life.  I hung up the phone immediately and moved to my work desk and turned on my computer.  

Cara was confused and decided to ask me what was going on.  “What’s going on mister?  Are you going to kill me?”

I chose to respond to her.  “No Cara, your mother made the right decision and saved you.  I’ll make sure you make it home safely.  But when your caretaker wakes up, I want you to close your eyes.”

“Why is that, mister?”

“Because sometimes good people do bad things, Cara.”

I started to make plans to let this John person know that his girlfriend was about to die.          The woman I hit began to wake up and began shouting for help.  “Help!  I need help!  My name is Cassie Silverman, and I need help.”

Call it my sick form of intuition, but I found a radio station he listens to every day the best way to get the message to him, and planned my signal to intercept the radio’s in exactly ten minutes, right after the end of a song they had set to play by an artist named “Cassie”.  It was too perfect for me to not do, so I did.  I made sure to intercept the signal and put the receiver close enough to Cassie so she could say her last words to John before I cut off the receiver.  I felt guilt now, guilty that I was about to end the life of an innocent woman, but I had to make sure I left a message in blood, so I bashed her head in with my sledgehammer.  The sound the hammer made against Cassie’s skull made Cara shriek.  I felt bad that she had to witness such a brutal murder, but it couldn’t be helped.  I grabbed the nearest piece of paper and a pencil and began to write in Cassie’s blood a message to my boss.

“This is the last innocent person I will ever kill.  You took things too far and made it personal.  
I’m going to see to it that you are killed by my own hands, boss.  I’ll make sure that you die slow, and feel ever bit of pain you can possibly imagine.   You wanted me to be ‘El Cucuy’, to be something that children and people fear, well you’ve got it!  I terrified Cara with my actions, and I’ll be sure that you die with fear in your eyes.  Don’t send your men after Cara, unless you no longer want to have a living gang you can stand on.  Prepare yourself, Boss, because I will come for you, and I will show you no mercy.”  

I left that piece of paper on the floor in the place of where Cassie’s body laid broken and bleeding.  I picked up her body and tossed it out into the ocean, cleaned up the extra blood that was on the floor, and took Cara to my car.  I strapped her in and drove straight to Nisha’s place.  I told her to head inside and lock the doors.  I expected her to hit me or call me a bad man, but Cara did the opposite.  She reached over and hugged me.  “Thank you for sparing me.”  I was in disbelief at what Cara did.  It was the first time in years someone had shown me any compassion.  She made her way to the door and began to open it, but something inside me told me to call out to her.  

“Hey!  When your mother gets home, tell her that Dante said hi and that he’s very busy, but that he hopes to meet up with her someday.”  Cara nodded her head and went inside.  In that moment, I decided to throw away my plans to become a part of a criminal “family” and to kill anyone who would dare come after Nisha and Cara.  They deserved better than someone like me to be around them, and I wasn’t going to rest until I had run my old gang clear out of the city.  In truth, I don’t think I’m gonna be able to stop with just the boss.  I’m not sure if I’m capable of ever stopping my killing streak.  But if I’m gonna kill, I want it to be for the right reasons, and for the right targets.  I was a good person, and I’ll still try to be as best as I can, but I don’t think there’s anything that will change me.  I want to be the best person I can for Nisha, and for my daughter Cara.  She will never know the face of her father because I left Nisha the night I killed her cousin, the night I stopped being a caring boyfriend and soon to be father, and became the monster that I am now.  That’s why I hope that Nisha takes care of her, of our baby girl.  You were right, Nisha.  Sometimes good people do bad things, but sometimes bad people just can’t stop doing what they do best.


Popular posts from this blog

Carnivorous Encounters

The Monsters In My Mind (Why I Started Writing Horror Stories)

The Playwright