The Little Black Book

The gun is slick in my grip. I stare down at the shiny piece of black metal and plastic, almost not believing that I am holding this thing. As a teen, I loved guns. I always thought they made a guy look good. When I look at it now though, I just feel sick. My eyes follow the gun as it falls from my hand and down into the water beneath the bridge I am standing on. As the waves bury the gun beneath the surface of the inky black water, I can’t help but wonder how many other murder weapons have been disposed of on this bridge. The full moon shines down on me like a spotlight in the sky. It looks bright and cheerful, mocking me as I complete my dark deed. I turn away from it, suddenly feeling more shame than I have ever felt before. I feel the shame since I let something so beautiful witness the ugliness I have done.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this, it never was. How did this all start only two days ago? Why did I do this? I shake my head at the obvious answer, money. It’s always about money, isn’t it?

I look down at my shoes, they’re dirty, worn, and starting to fall apart. I chuckle humorlessly when I realize those three words can basically sum up my entire life. I can’t afford to be alive, but as soon as the news of all this comes out, I won’t have to worry anymore.

As I make my way home though, I do feel the worry. Will I be caught? Will someone find out? When I make it to my apartment, I don’t even bother to strip out of my dirty clothes, I just fall on top of my bed to sleep so that this terrible day can be over. Sleep does not come to me though, instead my mind is invaded by the terrible memories of what has happened over the last two days.

The little black notebook was left outside the door of my hell hole of an apartment. Inside was a debit card and instructions. The person who wrote the instructions said that I could call them my boss. They told me that the debit card has $20,000 on it, but I wouldn’t be able to access it until I had completed the task assigned to me. They said it would be simple, I just needed to follow the directions to get the gun they had hidden for me under some bushes and then I needed to use that gun to kill a woman. They told me where she would be at a certain time, stating that she would be alone, meaning nobody would witness what they wanted me to do. The note said that I could find her depositing a check at an ATM after her shift at the restaurant she works in. As soon as the news announced her death, I could collect the money.

When I read that I was excited, I just had to get rid of one person and I wouldn’t have to live in my rat’s nest of an apartment, I could get some nice shoes, and I would no longer have to eat food that a dog would turn its nose at. When I was sitting in my car waiting for her though, that was when my opinion changed.

As I saw the girl matching the description I was given, my heart began to beat so fast that I was afraid I was going to pass out. Now I’m kind of wishing that I did, then nothing would have happened to her. When I looked at her, I got a sneaking suspicion for why this guy wanted her dead. She was very pretty, the kind of girl that turns heads even when she’s not trying. She looked like a model. The guy who hired me, my “boss”, probably asked her out and she turned him down, or they had dated and she broke up with him.

When I saw that perfect smile and those bright, innocent eyes I wanted to turn around, to turn around and not look back. I wanted to forget that any of this happened. I reached for the keys in my pocket so that I could turn my car on and drive away, I really did, but then another thought passed through my mind. I couldn’t do that. I wanted a better life. If having a better life meant that she had to die, then I was willing to do that.

As she was putting her check into the ATM, I got out of my car and almost ran toward her. I wanted to do this before she could turn around and look at me. If I looked in her eyes, then I knew that I could never do it. When I was only a few feet away, I pulled the gun out of my pants and fired the gun into her chest without a second thought. The sound echoed in the empty street and I ran back to my car, afraid that someone would investigate to see what happened. I opened the door and practically leaped into the front seat. The engine roared and I peeled out of the parking lot. As I went through the streets, tears streamed down my face as my mind betrayed me and I thought of the girl’s last moments.

After the bullet carved its way through her chest, she had looked me straight in the face with a look that will haunt me forever. It was a look of surprise, agony, and a loss of innocence. The pain expressed in her eyes was not of physical agony, but an agony coming from the knowledge that she wasn’t going to survive and that a complete stranger was the one who did this terrible thing to her, but she would never understand why.

As I lay in bed, I squeeze my eyes shut so tightly that it feels almost painful as I try to push that memory out of my mind. My body is shaking as I remember her eyes. I can’t keep doing this to myself or else I will go crazy. Over two hours pass before exhaustion overpowers me after such a horrific night, but as sleep finally takes me, my mind is filled with the image of her terrified eyes. As my last bit of consciousness left me, I knew that those eyes would haunt my nightmares.

The night passed with fitful sleep filled with haunting dreams with eyes that were full of blame and people demanding the blood of the murderer of an innocent young woman. The morning news announced her death and I found out that her name is… was Allie, she was a college student hoping to become a nurse. Her friends had told the news reporter that she wanted to be a nurse so that she could dedicate her life to helping others. That just made me feel even more like a monster. I turned off the news immediately and took the card that had been left for me in the little black notebook and headed for the nearest ATM. I got the money without any issue, apparently my “boss” was keeping his eye on the news and opened the account to me as soon as he saw it. At least this boss is efficient, I have to give him that much.

I took as much money from the account as I could, worried that he might close it again, before returning back to my apartment. Laying down on my bed, I hold the money I had earned from my dark deed in front of my eyes, trying to convince myself that what I did was worth it, but the money just looks like what it truly is, paper. The idea of the money no longer has any appeal to me. I make sure that my eyes don’t stray to my side since I know that the little black notebook that started all of this is currently sitting on top of my bedside table.

As I lay here, looking at the cursed money, my cell phone rings on my bed beside me. When I look at the screen, I notice that it is a number that I don’t recognize. I hang up without a second thought. Not even a minute later, the phone rings again, showing the exact same number. I answer it this time, curious as to who wants to get ahold of me.

“Hello?” I ask, my voice sounding hoarse and pained. I hear someone breathing on the other end, but they wait a moment before speaking, as if they are unsure of what to say.

“Hello, it’s a real pleasure to finally speak to you. I have been looking forward to this since I heard about what happened.” The voice is kind of nasally and weak. I can easily picture the owner of this voice. A weak, nerdy guy in his late twenties or early thirties. The kind of guy that has probably been picked on constantly throughout his life. What on earth does this guy want? What is he talking about? And why does he act like he knows me? The questions leave my mind when I realize that this must be a wrong number.

“Hey look, I don’t know what you’re talking about, but I think you have the wrong number.” The man chuckles, with his nasally tone, it is like nails on a chalkboard in my ears.

“This is not the wrong number, don’t you recognize the voice of your boss?” I sit bolt upright on my bed, no longer feeling forlorn, but instead feeling sick in my terror. He chuckles again, probably sensing my horror. “Don’t worry, I take care of my employees, you won’t have any problems. I told the police that the camera on the ATM was broken, I broke it myself this morning before they arrived, but I made sure to get the surveillance footage of what happened, including an image of your face.” My stomach feels like it’s being crushed inside me, I think I’m going to throw up. I know what he is implying by those words. By holding on to that image of me killing that woman, he now has me in the palm of his hand, and there’s nothing I can do about it. The voice on the other end of the line is practically giggling in their glee.

“You have been a very valuable employee to me the past two days and I would rather not let you go just yet.” The dark sarcasm in their voice makes my heart pound and my breath come out in short gasps, I have a sudden fear that I may pass out. “Judging from how well you did with your first task, I’m sure that we will have a lot of fun together.” A cold laugh fills the other line of the phone as a cold chill runs down my spine. I look down at the little black notebook on my bedside table, knowing that there is no way out.