Interview with a hitman

[My research takes me to a dilapidated apartment in Hell's kitchen, New York. The walls and floor are stained with something I do not wish to know, and the room I am in is referred to as the 'Living Room'. I'm currently talking with Diamond, as he likes to call himself in order to conceal his identity. He's solidly built with a square jaw and an unnerving gaze. He's smoking a cigarette. As he begins to speak he buts it out in an overflowing ashtray. He offers me a cup of coffee and I accept. This transcript is the original, unedited version.]

When you kill someone, a part of yourself dies along with your victim.

[At this point he lights up another cigarette.]

It was my first job, a routine assignment for an experienced hitman, but very intimidating for a rookie like I was. Some guy downtown had grown to big for his boots, proven the old crim saying “People with baby teeth are more willing to lose 'em”. He was a nobody who thought he was somebody, and he needed to be taken down a couple'a notches to his funeral casket. So there I was, fresh outta dropouts-ville and strapped for cash. I was always a bit of a troublemaker, vandalism, binge drinking, assault, peddling soft shit like weed and shrooms, nothing special. Never killed a guy or lifted a finger on a lady, I aint a dog. Never needed to anyway, the ladies loved me; dunno if it was the bad boy thing or my smooth charm. Couldn't have been my looks, by the time I turned fifteen i looked more like Lurch off the Adams family than your typical teenager.

Shit, Adams family. My favourite show. When I was a kid, when I still lived with my folks I used ta watch that show religiously. My favourite TV show in an age of colour television, internet and cheap sex was a black and white family sitcom. I didn't care, back then I was still naïve, still had parents who cared for me. But anyway, I'm sidetracking. Point is my childhood was not a pretty one, and it seemed I broke nearly every rule, chipped away almost every part of my humanity except for that one, last shred of decency.

[He exhales heavily, wishing to emphasize the next point.]

My hands were clean of blood.

Ya'know, it's funny when I think about it now. Back then when I was a kid and you offered me ten grand to off some low-life bastard who beat on his hookers and felt good about it afterwards, I would've asked whether ya want him to die slowly or quickly and in a way, that's what happened. Now though, I'd think long and hard before comin' to any conclusion. So anyway I was runnin' low on dosh and no shopkeeper in their right mind'd hire a kid like me, and I don't blame 'em. Didn't know what to do so I started calling in favours from everyone I knew. Now, the people I knew loved receiving favours but were slightly hesitant in repaying 'em. I'm sure I don't have to paint you a fuckin' picture when I say hesitant. Guns in my face were the least of my concerns. I've been stabbed more times then I can count, mauled by rabid dogs and, I shit you not, a fighting rooster. Don't laugh you sunnuva bitch, those things are fucking vicious! I went over to Rooter's joint one time and asked for some if the money I lent him back. I gave him about two hundred, and all I asked was half of that. He's the fucker who let his rooster on to me. That thing was pecking and jabbing all over the place, nearly lost an eye! My ankles were pissing blood along with my arms because I had tried to protect my face and balls from attack. It was insane, a story that I'll be telling my grandchildren, although slightly edited of course.

[He laughs loudly and heartily, as if more at the concept of ever having children than at the editing remark]

There was this other time also where, I shit you not someone came at me with a fuckin' samurai sword. This bitch was waving it around, screaming at me to get off her property before she cut me up real bad. I don't think it was even real, the woman was deluded. I wanted to speak with her boyfriend, but the pussy sent out his woman instead. Cowardly fuck. Owed me only fifty bucks.

[He chuckles again, this time more reservedly than before. He offers me a cigarette as he buts his next one out and withdraws another one. I refuse.]

Suit yourself. So where was I? Oh yeah, the job. I'd been working myself up to do it for about a week. There wasn't any time limit, which was rare because people who hired hitmen weren't the patient type, after all, they couldn't even wait until the poor bastard died of old age or disease. But there I was, twenty-two and planning to kill someone. How I got the job's a funny story too. I was on the front yard of another prick who owed me some money when I heard some gunshots from inside the house. I think I actually shat me'self then and there. I mean I had heard gunshots before, but never this close, this personal. I didn't know what to do. My first instinct was to run, but my feet didn't agree with me. There was one more gunshot and then silence. After about five minutes or so with silence from the house, I decided to investigate. How stupid I was, but then again I never would've become what I am today if I hadn't, so I suppose it was a good thing I did that after all. I went inside and looked around. The house was one of them commission homes, very plain and it had only the most necessary things. The kitchen was clean, along with the living room, but when I got to the bedroom I emptied my stomach right on the cream coloured carpet. It was a mess. The room was freckled with blood and brain shit that came from a body on the bed. It was female and she had a nice body, but there wasn't enough of her face to tell whether she had been pretty or not. Someone had emptied half a clip into her face from close range. It was an absolute mess. I walked out and went into the next bedroom, but by then I knew what I was gonna see.

[Diamond draws a long puff from the cigarette before exhaling]

I managed to put two and two together. I figured that the lady had been this guys lover, but she had been cheating on him with another, or maybe some other, guys. In his rage he must'a unloaded his pistol into her and saved one for himself in the other room.

[Diamond, upon seeing the look on my face, asks me if anything is wrong. I question him as to why he referred to the murder-suicide as 'funny' before he began telling it. He simply shrugs.]

These things happen all the time, y'know? You just get used to it as a part of life. I mean, I was scared, don't get me wrong, but all the stories I'd heard, everything I've learnt and experienced, it just allowed me to get over it quickly. The funny part was that the guy had been a hitman as well, but he had the contact details of his employer and his mark on one sheet of paper in his room. I did some searching around, looking for anything valuable- yes, I did rob the house. The guy did owe me after all, I thought I'd collect the debt with interest. I came across this guy's name 'Jerry Dawkins'.

[He grins before sinking into his frayed couch.]

Can you believe that I didn't even know this bastard's name? I lent him money and I didn't even know his name, only where he lived. But I s'pose that in the end that's all that mattered, where he lived. I could call him whatever I wanted.

[He sighs, taking another puff of his cigarette.]

Anyway, his mark, and mine from that point on, was his brother, Tony. But that aint the end of all the fun. I went flicking through his deceased missus' mobile and found a whole heap of steamy sex messages from Tony to her. Seems like this girl was a fan of the entire family though, because I found some from a Brandon Dawkins and even a Lucy. Woulda liked to see that eh?

[He nudges me playfully and I accidentally spill some of my coffee.]

Eh don't worry about that. If you haven't noticed...

[He indicates to the stains on the walls. I simply nod in response.]

Before you get any ideas, they were here before I moved in. That's why the rent is so cheap.

So yeah, I find his employers contact number and I ring him up. Course, I didn't know this guy had been hired to kill his brother, and it was dumb luck that I called up this guy before his brother. I don't know exactly why I called, though. It seems stupid to me now that I think about it. What was I going to get out of it? Was I trying to do something well-meaning? No idea. But even though I had been brought up on the street, witnessing a murder can never be fully forgotten. Not by a nineteen year-old kid, anyway. So I called the guy and after talking to him for a little while I managed to extract an offer from him. Ten grand to kill the guy. I accepted like any poor kid who was three dollars away from living in a cardboard box would. No, I wasn't living in a cardboard box thankfully; a couple of my bros managed to get jobs and rent out a place. I crashed at their joints for a couple of weeks at a time. Good people, I won't forget it. I took the job and then I shut down for a week. I withdrew and thought about what I had agreed to do. I agreed to kill somebody. Fucking kill someone. A guy I didn't even know. But it was ten grand, a heap of money to a kid like me. So I thought, and thought, and thought some more until I finally got the nerve to pick up a gun and just do it.

[At this point he makes a gun shape with his left hand, pointing it at me and making a 'bang' sound.]

That's how it was supposed to go. Quick and easy. One shot. But it didn't happen that way. You know why?

[He looks at me, as if expecting an answer. I shrug.]

Because he was boning a chick. I broke into his house one night, it was a fluke that no-one saw me, and crept up to his bedroom. I knew it was his because the light was on and you could see it from the gap under the door. I swing the door open like a maniac, no longer caring for stealth and wave my gun around, looking for some place I should aim it at. I find the dude's head but it's blocked by this broad's naked back. Killing one guy was already more than I could bear so there was no chance I could bring myself to shoot the girl as well, so I ran. I don't think he saw me, and if he did I don't think he cared. After all, what better way to die than in the middle of orgasm?

[He sighs and buts out another cigarette. This time he doesn't reach for another.]

I didn't kill the guy, and I didn't stop running until my lungs nearly exploded. I ran until I found a big building I could hide in, because at that moment I was terrified that the guy had called the police and they were already after me. Guess what building I ran into? A church. A fucking church, of all places, I mean come on. What are the chances? I'm not a believer, but I tell you that night I think someone or something was looking out for me. Think about it. The lady he was fucking, the church, the gunshots that should'a scared me away but didn't, I think they were fuckin' signs telling me not to go ahead with the shooting, and you know what?

[He smiles grimly as he leans forward, closing the distance between me and him.]

I didn't. It was my first and my last. Now that's gotta count for something right? Like I said, when you kill someone, you kill a part of yourself as well. I've lost so much'a me already, I don't think I can afford to lose anything else.