In His Hands

Jason Daniels never liked being under someone else’s control. All his life, since he was a child refusing to nap with the other kids, he would always move against the grain. As he got older, his refusal to give into authority grew worse, sometime even violent. By his 16th birthday, he had decided that even his mother’s control couldn’t hold him. He dropped out of school and left home, never to look back again.

Living on his own, Jason knew that struggle was lying ahead. Odd jobs came and went, most involving a hairnet or plastic name tag. Within a few weeks, Jason felt he didn’t have to answer to his bosses and he wound up looking for another, similar job. He never cared about any of this, because whatever trouble that came to him was his own doing and he was okay with that thought. He would finally be able to live the way he wanted on his terms. Everyday was in his hands.

This careless and nomadic lifestyle continued for years. Over a decade, Jason’s curiosity would always get the better of him. With every new substance and stories of the old, Jason saw opportunity and excitement everywhere. There wasn’t anything he wasn’t going to try once, but many trials developed into big, expensive habits.

The idea of giving his trips up was never an option, but Jason needed a way too pay for his new past time. He began contemplating several plots that could move him closer to his prize. After several failed attempts to pick-pocket or steal the money, his nerves grew short and he became desperate. As a thought of desperation, he considered something that would push his limits, but could prove beneficial in the end; contract killing. He had heard about this several times on the streets. Usually, a young cheating wife would pay to have her husband killed. Whether fear or guilt was the basis of her choices, Jason didn’t know. He started to wonder, “How am I going to find a job like that and pull it off?” He let the idea go.

One day, while trying to extend the deadline to pay his dealer, an answer came tapping Jason on the shoulder. He overheard a conversation between a man and younger woman. He had a very plain face with no extraordinary features, except for the dark brown mole located between in eyes. She was blonde and in her mid-twenties, dressed in several pieces of pricey jewelry. It was obvious she didn’t belong on this part of town. Jason only caught small parts of the conversation, but she was definitely a gold-digger, newly married and after her husband’s money.

Jason couldn’t let the opportunity pass, and he wouldn’t. He approached the pair, and one glimpse of the man’s scared face proved that this would be easier than he thought. Soaking in his golden opportunity, he turned toward her and said, “I don’t think this one has the stomach for this job, but maybe I can help.” The woman must have recognized his huge absence of fear, because before the other man could even try to hand over the job, the two left him with his relief.

The two talked for only a few minutes, just enough time to get the main demands across. It couldn’t have been simpler. Jason was given his choice of weapon and execution, as long as he could rid of all the evidence. She told him when and where the act could be done. Jason has complete control over how this would be carried on. The old man’s life was in his hands.

Jason was ready. With a little research, he got to know his victim. Warner Hayworth was famous for being rich. His millions of dollars came from excellent luck in the stock market and his big involvement with the development of lottery tickets. At 78, he also suffered from strong asthma attacks. To keep everything as quick and clean as possible, Jason decided to suffocate the old man and hoped that the illness and sudden shock would speed up the process.

It was time and Jason made his way to the big house on the “rich side” of town, where Old Man Hayworth belonged. Jason was told that his target would be sleeping and the house would otherwise be empty for the night. Mrs. Hayworth also informed him that a spare key would be taped to the inside of the mailbox to avoid forced entry. He let himself in and immediately felt out of place. By just entering the dining room, he felt like he was in the presence of royalty. Everything resembled a museum, beautiful and fragile. Walking as if trying to catch a glimpse of Santa Clause, he quietly worked up the stairs and into the master bedroom.

His goal laid in a peaceful sleep, unaware of what the next few minutes, the last of his life, would bring. The moment was here, at last, and Jason was more than ready. For a second, he had forgotten about the need for money. He was caught up in the rush, one that nothing on the streets could ever top. Controlling his anxiety, Jason calmly lifted the spare pillow and placed it firmly over the aged face. After a few seconds, the struggle commenced. The old man began trying to pry Jason’s fingers off of the pillow. He only succeeded in leaving a few scratches on Jason’s hand, and out of anger, he pressed down harder. Hayworth fought harder, grabbing at Jason’s wrists. In turn, more pressure was applied to his face. A muffled plea squeezed from the sides of the pillow. Then, he was still. He had stopped fighting and Jason knew it was over. Absorbing the alpha-male sensation was almost too much for him. As if to mock the dead and further prove his power, Jason removed the pillow and looked at the face of his victim. A pair of old, grey eyes stared back at him.

Nothing could top the feeling of control that thickened the air in the room. Jason walked out of that room with his head help high with pride. Traveling back down the stairs and through the house, his demeanor changed. While walking in and out of each room only minutes ago, he felt out of place, like the house was looking down on him and his way of life. Now, he felt better, and that he was more important than anything Warner Hayworth had ever done.

The darkness of the house had taken its toll on Jason’s eyes. Before he had time to adjust to any change, he was blinded by a sharp yellow light as he opened the front door. Voices scattered and buzzed all around him. Nothing had registered, but someone was already behind him, forcing him down the concrete steps. His hands were bound behind his back; that was when he understood. Just when the truth hit him, the behind him began cuffing him and said, “You’re under arrest for the murder of Warner Hayworth.”

It wasn’t until he was pushed against the patrol car that Jason noticed the man in the driver’s seat, with the brown mole between his eyes.

They caught him and now Jason was confined behind bars. His life had revolved around maintaining control over everything that happened to him and doing what he wanted. But now he was stuck on death row against his will and there was no way out. When he heard the guilty verdict and the judge’s gavel fall, it was only a matter of time before he would be put to death. His life was no longer in his hands, it was in theirs.

Just like the fate of Warner Hayworth, the day came for someone else to take Jason’s life away. He wasn’t scared, he appeared calm and aware of what was about to happen. He was allowed to shower after putting in the request for his last meal. His wish was simple; a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. This raised eyebrows all throughout the kitchen, but on one had bothered to ask why.

Maybe someone should have. Moments after finishing his meal with a smile on his face, it was time to be escorted to the chair. The guard found Jason lying in his bed, face into the pillow, apparently sleeping. After several failed attempts to wake him up from outside of the cell, he let himself in. When he turned Jason over onto his side, all he saw were the dark green eyes. Jason was pronounced dead moments later.

It was during the autopsy that it was discovered that he died from asphyxiation.

Jason Daniels was allergic to peanuts.

His death, as his life had always been, remained in his hands.