The Black Book

My heels clicked on the linoleum floor as I made my way to my office. My employees greeted me with respect as I went. I stepped into my office making sure to lock the door behind me. After what the book put me through last month I would hate for anyone to see what's in it.

I sit at my desk and pull a book from my bag. I flip through the pages prior challenges of mine. I hate them, the constant reminders of my sins. Finally, I turn to the page with the newest challenge, "Kill your wife for $20,000".

I balk at the page. I must be misreading it, after all the book of given me my wife. The book had given me everything, surely the book wouldn't start taking things away. But I stare down at the page the sentence glares back at me unchanging. I try blinking and rubbing my eyes hoping that would change the words in front of me.

Something must be wrong the book wouldn't make me kill my wife. This isn't fair. This can't be right. Surely something's wrong with me. I get up from my desk and begin to pace around the room. I take a deep breath and return to look at the book. It still says the same thing.

I still remember how I met her she was beautiful, she is beautiful. She was the first challenge I ever had. I just got in the book and it said I had to beat up some random car for a date with her. I thought it was some prank from my roommates. I thought it would be funny to mess up one of their cars. With the note that was in the book, they would have deserved it. The note read like some bullshit hazing experiment, "Once you accept a challenge you have accepted the terms of the book. If at any point you deny a challenge your death will shortly follow. If you succeed in a challenge you will be granted the promised reward". If only I had taken that stupid note seriously.

So I beat up the car and the very next week she asked me to hang out. I thought it was a miracle. And then the next challenge came I did that one too. The challenges got worse over the years. This isn't the first time it demanded murder but, it was the first time it was someone I loved.

What about our son? One of his parents would have to die. He would have to grow up without one of us. Tears run down my face with the thought. I love them both too much. How can the book ask this of me? I hold her face in my mind as I contemplate what to do.

Why was I so stupid all those years ago? Why did I get stuck with this curse? I grab the book and throw it to the floor. I feel my fist go through drywall before I even think to do it. I can't imagine what my employees must be thinking with all this racket. My employees, another thing that book gave me. Everything I have is because of the stupid book. Nothing is truly mine. I hate it I hate all of it. I could just have a simple life. Instead, I have to commit all these atrocities.

I slink to the ground thinking of all I've done. If I wasn't so selfish I would have just let the book kill me. The time it made me cheat on my wife, the time it made me drop those people, and just a couple of months ago when it made me kill that old man. I didn't even know him, he probably had a whole family that loved him. It was him or me and I chose me and all I got out of it was some business deal like barely cared about.

I should be the one to die I'm an awful person and I wife doesn't deserve this. Maybe the world would be better without me. There wouldn't be some guy running around doing all these terrible things in a black book tells him to. My son wouldn't have to grab the monster for a father. I'm sure royalties from the business in my life insurance could take care of them.

I look back at the book and realize I'm not going to do what it says. I take a couple of deep breaths looking around my office. I wonder how it will get me. How will the book kill me?

Tears stain my face driving back from the funeral. The doctors had said it was an aneurysm. Our poor son has been acting up since it happened. I guess I can't expect him to understand. Luckily the first $20,000 life insurance policy was more than enough to pay for both of our therapy. I just wish I understood why he had developed an obsession with that little black book he has or at least where he got it.