The Internal Conflict of a Killer

              She sat still for what felt like an eternity as the sun went down and the moon began to rise to meet the stars sending a silver sliver of light through the cracked curtains which swayed hypnotically back and forth with the slight breeze that whispered through the open window of the hotel room. The moonlight cut through the darkness in the room like a knife, highlighting the side of her face and the look of disdain which masked it. The look was a welcome change however, it had been a long time since she had shown any emotion, the last year, her realisations and life in general had turned her into something different, something she didn’t understand and couldn’t control.

         The envelope on the table seemed to stare back at her mockingly, like it knew about the turmoil that stirred inside her. Her work had been the last thing on her mind this year, it was why she had stepped away from it for so long but now looking at the white envelope underneath the light of the moon something inside her began to doubt the choices she had made.

         Jasper Aldris…

         The name played over and over again in her mind. She recognised the name, and vaguely pictured a face she thought she might have seen on the cover of Fortune. It was a name that played on the minds of many her profession. When she received the first letter she put it off to a childish prank, she had been out of the game for a year, a lifetime in her fickle business. Her name had been erased, her legacy just another memory to be filed away with so many others, why would she be offered such an important contract after so much time had passed and another killer had stepped into her shoes and into her legacy? The letter had been tossed aside with the rest of the junk mail and the memory of it discarded as a hoax.

         Until the invitation arrived.

         A very well organised prank, wasn’t that what it had to be? But something told Jessica not to ignore the letter, something felt different. Never one to do things by halves she began to do her own investigating, trying to prove to herself that it was indeed somebody trying to fool her, prove to herself that her name had died the moment she stepped out of the spotlight, but there was no denying the facts. The letter had been stamped and sealed with an official logo. This was the real deal.

         The envelope still sat there, wanting her to take it in her hands, wanting her to read through it once more and be enticed by the digits of a telephone number below, as if it already knew her, knew her fragile state of mind and the lust it would awaken inside of her.

         Go to the party. Kill him.

         No, she wouldn’t. She had closed the door on that chapter of her life a long time ago and refused to reopen it, she wouldn’t give in to the overwhelming feeling inside her this time she wouldn’t give in to the voices.

         Jessica, it’s time.
         It wasn’t time, it would never be time. She tore her eyes away from the envelope, fighting it, fighting herself. Solitary had been the only way for her, breaking connections with the ones she loved, the things she loved. It was her punishment for the things she had done, the people she had hurt, the blood she had drawn.

         But if she had no intention of doing the job than why had she begun to do homework on her ‘contract’? Why had she bothered to find out who it would be? She and ‘the contract’ had some things in common. He had been out of the game for sometime, she wondered if this was a reoccurring theme amongst the invitees, hoping that money would entice out of work contract killers or make them more susceptible to the power of suggestion. If that was the case, she was surely misinterpreted. But this man had a weakness she didn’t possess, a character trait which she had left behind a long time ago, he had something to prove. She knew men like him, she had come across them time and time again throughout her career, they where the ones that talked the talk and walked the walk but inside craved the admiration of others. They wanted to be number one; they wanted the fame and limelight, in it for all the wrong reasons. Jessica had nothing to prove and nothing left to lose. She didn’t need the money, she didn’t want the fame.

         Then why are you considering it darling?

         To stop the voices perhaps? To stop the violent thoughts that brought tears to her eyes and still a smile to her face. With a sigh she stood up from the chair, making her way across the living room, past the envelope and into the bathroom.

         She could still hear the thick sound of silence that enveloped the small decrepit building. Everybody stood around watching her, their eyes wide with horror as they watched on in dismay, frozen to the spot, as she continued to let her bloodlust absorb her, taking her anger out on his lifeless body. She shook her head trying to shake away memories before leaning her elbows on the side of the wash basin and putting her face in her hands.

         “You can do this… you can fight it.”

         No you can’t Jessica. You’re not strong enough anymore.

         Brainwashing, forcible indoctrination, aimed at destroying a person's basic convictions and attitudes and replacing them with an alternative set of fixed beliefs. She sniggered, isn’t this what she had already been subjecting herself to over the course of the last year? She realised she was thinking as if she had already decided she would participate.

         It’s time Jessica, time to let go of the weaknesses.

         “No!”

         She shouted out loud, the sound of her own high pitched anxiety ridden voice sounded unrecognisable to her as she lifted her head from her hands sharply to see her face staring back at her from the mirror, a face ravished by self hatred and loathing. Tears began to flow, like small streams tumbling from her eyes and down her face, leaving lines of ‘water proof’ mascara tracked on her reddened cheek bones. The tears where that of failure, she knew she had lost this round, she knew within the next hour she will have picked up the phone and accepted the offer and she knew it would be the end of anything good that was left inside her. They where tears of mourning for the death of who she once was.

         You’re weak.

         A sudden spark in her sad green eyes and the sobs began to turn to laughter. The grin creeping across her face despite the tears and ridiculing her for not trying hard enough, for never trying hard enough.

         “This is the beginning Jessica, it’s just you, me and the man you’re going to kill.”