One

I stopped believing in destiny soon after my first kill. Before this, I thought myself a carefree optimist; striving for more, yet content to live out my years stuck in the middle. You see, even though I had all but abandoned any thoughts of getting ahead in life, buried them in a dark recess of my brain, I still believed I was destined for something greater.

        Still.

        I also thought you could catch lightning in a bottle. Admittedly, I was in a desperate situation. Untrue, but given my state of mind, I was desperate. My son was turning fifteen, my daughter eleven going on twenty-one, my wife forty-five, and yours truly forty-two. I recall the day my life turned on its head as if it were yesterday.

        “Silas.”

        “Rachel.”

        “Pink, with a plus sign.”

        “What?”

        “Three times. This week, three times.”

        “I’ve no idea what you’re talking about but you seem depressed and I know a way to perk you up!” I began shrugging out of my sweats.

        “Keep those on. Idiot.”

        I almost collapsed. One leg out the other cocked half-mast, the ankle caught in the waistband. “Huh?”

        “Is everything sex with you? That’s what got us into this in the first place. It’s positive.”

        She held a small, white, oblong stick with a circle in its middle. The circle was pink. Within the circle was a faint blue plus sign.

        “Shit.”

        She fell onto the bed, head in her hands, leaving me a moronic statue standing with one leg in my sweats the other out.

        “How?”

        She gave me “the look”. I’ve become familiar with this particular expression over the eighteen years we’ve been married. The look says in the simplest of terms – Dumbass!

        “But.”

        “Yeah, but.”

        “I was snipped. This wasn’t supposed to happen.”

        “Welcome to the lucky few. We are lucky, right? Happy?”

        “I’m happy.”

        I slid my bare leg back into the sweatpants waiting for the giant oak tree just outside the bedroom window to crash through the roof and augment my happiness. I mean really.

Really?

        Tears welled in my wife’s beautiful blue eyes. I sat beside her and removed the stick from her clenched fist, took her hand in mine. “I’m happy.”

        “Truly?”

        “Yeah.”

        “What are we going to do?”

        “Have a baby!”

        She leaned in and we kissed.

        A baby. I was scared shitless.

        Still.

        I believed in destiny and prayed for a quick fix. I’m like that. I jump into things without entirely thinking them through. I panic. At the time, I was employed in a dead-end job with little hope of advancement.

        I had a son who, while only a freshman in high school, was already looking forward to college.

        I had a daughter who at times acted like she already was in college.

        I had a baby on the way.

        And I fell into an opportunity.

        Fell. That’s not entirely accurate. I did not fall, nor was I pushed, pressured, or otherwise impressed upon.

        Still.

        It sounded like easy money. Again, if I am to be completely frank, I had no idea how hard or easy it would be.

But.

        The ad did promise money.

Lots.

✜ 

I check my watch. Why? I’ve no clue.

        Unnecessary.

        4 A.M.        

        Fuck. I’m tired.

        I scan the tattered remains of my jacket, brush aside the shreds of my left shirtsleeve soaked in blood and come across exposed tendons.

        My tendons.

        So yes, I panicked and responded to the advertisement.

Time flew by.

Presently, my son is coasting through his senior year. My daughter has her sights set on high school, and the pink circle with a blue plus sign is now a toddler.

        And I have killed many.

        And I no longer believe in destiny.

        And you may catch lightning in a bottle, but the toll is heavy.

        Still.

        Coolness plays across my skin and drives icepicks into my spine. I stiffen at the scraping behind me. I turn and find her. Fire red hair surrounds a homely face. Ghastly, black marbles of eyes narrow.

        I shudder.

I know. Pathetic.

        She lunges.

        I shoot her.  

Dead.

        Still.