Tonight was the night. I’d planned for days: tracking my
target, purchasing the essentials, finding the opportune time and moment… I was
giddy with the heady anticipation, the roaring fire in my veins heralding the
long-awaited conclusion to my – and my victim’s – saga.
Victim. I tried not to laugh at the moniker. He was no
victim. Sure, he was going to feel the slice of my knife, the none-to-gentle massage of my strangling hands
on his windpipe, and in that sense – the strictest sense – he would be a
victim, but his deeds; his deeds had earned him so much more than what I was prepared
to mete out.
I shifted my weight, the length of rope in my hands – paid
for in cash, of course – alternately slackening and growing taut as some of my
nervous energy seeped into my actions. I knew that there was no real risk of
discovery. An expert poker player could probably tell what I was up to, as I
was surely telegraphing my intentions through my demeanor and subconscious
action, but my hiding place was perfect. I was obscured from the road, from the
surrounding buildings, and had a clear line of sight to the doorway my victim
used every night. With the cloud cover in the area blotting out the moonlight
and the porch light having gone out some time last week, my disguise of
darkness was absolute.
Lights shone through the bushes around me, moving in a slow
arc – the headlights of my victim’s vehicle. I remembered that gray
monstrosity, its privacy-darkened
windows obscuring any view of the driver. I’m sure this let him feel more
at-ease about his casual callousness, his disregard for his fellow citizens of
the world. I relished the chance to disabuse him of his notions of superiority.
Today, his bill came due, and I was here to collect.
I remained still, even ceasing the motion of my hands, as he
approached his front door. I saw him standing there in black shoes and gray
slacks not six feet from me, and I ached to reach out and start the process
early. My hand was halfway towards him when I hastily caught myself. His time
would come, and come soon. What good could I be to the world if I deviated from
my plan and failed to exact the revenge due to society – to humanity itself –
from the hide of this miscreant?
The door shut behind my victim as the moment passed, and I
listened for a telltale click. My research was perfect, but there was always
the chance that he would change his pattern just this once. After a few moments
of silence I smiled. In a neighborhood like this nobody ever locked their
doors. I surmised that that would change after tonight.
I slipped quietly into the foyer, gently closing the door
behind me. I left it open lest my victim heard the latch closing unexpectedly,
but the blaring of the television in a room down the hall told me my
precautions were unnecessary. I crept down the small hall, positioning myself
flat against the wall next to the braying portal conveying the television’s
auditory feces onto the aural landscape. Using a small hand-mirror I peeked
around the doorframe, and smiled once again. He was sitting in a chair facing
away from the door. I relaxed for the first time – this couldn’t be any easier
if I had planned it myself.
I took a breath and moved stealthily into the room. This was
the moment of truth – the time when all of my research, all of my creative
energy came to fruition. Just me and my victim, a few scant inches separating
us. I paused behind his chair, savoring the moment, and as the action on screen
climaxed I struck, looping my rope around the victim’s neck.
The struggle that ensued could be described by any number of
words. Epic. Brief. Desperate. Violent. But ultimately the word that was most
apt was “futile.” Before long my victim had passed out from lack of oxygen, and
I was able to get to work. His hands were quickly bound to his feet, and his
body rendered immobile through judicious application of ropes and restraints. I
covered all of the bases – wrists, elbows, knees, ankles, all tied together in
a complex series of practiced knots that were as impossible to escape as they
seemed to be to tie. This accomplished, my work was largely complete – I simply
needed to wait for my victim to awaken.
At this point I did not have to wake long, as a couple
minutes later he jerked awake with a curse. He struggled vainly against his
bonds, then began to shout. I didn’t really listen to his words, as they were
largely immaterial – I simply stepped forward and slapped him across the face.
He shook his head and blinked a few times, his eyes settling on my masked head
and, more importantly, the shiny knife I was holding in front of it. His eyes
widened at this last, and his mouth cracked open to let forth some more verbal
assault.
“Who… who are you?”
I smiled. These conversations all started the same way. They
all ended the same way, too, but my victim didn’t have to know that. I took a
breath and spoke, knowing the vocal distorter would do its work for me
“Someone you have wronged for the last time.”
The man shook his head. “Wronged? Who? I haven’t wronged
anyone!”
I laughed, a mirthless sound that caused my victim to snap
his mouth shut. “You all make the same claim, but I was there. I saw you, in
your hubris, as you ignored all the hallmarks of a worthwhile civilization.” I
began to pace around him as I talked, taunting him with his inability to move.
“It’s such a simple thing. You wait your turn, then you go. You stand in line,
then you receive your turn at the appropriate moment. But you, oh no. You….” I
placed the knife against his cheek, causing him to shudder as the cold steel
touched his face. “You thought you were so much more important.”
“Hey listen man, I don’t know what you’re talking…”
His voice cut off suddenly as I sliced, a bright red gash
erupting on his cheek. He let out a scream of pain – sweet music to my ears
paying in one second for all of the time I’d spent preparing. I gave him a moment to quiet down before
continuing. “Hurts, doesn’t it?”
“You… you son of a…”
“Don’t like being cut, do you? But no, you just had to be in
first. You walked right past all the people outside that theater, and just
jumped in at the front. “
I saw his eyes widen in recognition. “Wait, this is over a movie?!”
I didn’t let his outburst deter me. “You flagrantly flaunted
the rules of society. You tried to be more important than the rest of the
people who waited politely.” I sliced him again, his scream rising once more as
I spoke louder to top it. “You had every opportunity to do the right thing.”
Another slice, another scream.” But you chose the wrong action, and now….” I
placed the tip of the knife into his nostril and leaned in close. “…now you
will no longer be able to hurt others.”
I wish I could say my work took a long time, but my victim
alas did not have the pain tolerance shown by some of my more ardent
adventures. I finished my task in all of an hour, and before long I’d set the
flames I used to cover up any evidence I left. As I left the room, I tried to
ignore the sullen emptiness inside of me. It had been growing after each of my
victims, lately. I didn’t question my motives – indeed, my work was the only
thing I was confident in – but more felt less certain that my victims were
serving as any kind of example. There is, after all, a lot of filth in the
world – were they getting the message?
As I walked down the street, the amber light rising and
flickering behind me, I started thinking about ways to publicize my work, to
get the message out. Of course, for that I’d need another victim, and there was
no shortage of those.
