The Night Of
Bang! The first shot was pitch perfect. The bullet hit the guy right in his forehead and came out of the other side of his head, spilling his brains in the process and leaving behind a big hole from where it exited. He was dead in an instant.
The woman was quick. Quicker than the assassin had imagined. She reached out for the gun which had been hidden under the table like she should have done in order to have survived that night. So he fired again. The woman was fast, faster than any average man would be, but the assassin was faster. The bullet hit her in her forehead, right between her eyes. Same results. Brains all over and a big hole where the back of her head used to be.
The deed was done. He did what had to be done. And he did it perfectly. Two shots, fired accurately within an instant. Even a good shooter would be proud of the work. Hell, some would even admire it. But he didn’t feel proud. This was the first time he ever shot someone. Sure he had used his guns before but never on any person. He had never liked guns to be honest. But he had no choice. He had to shoot them as the stakes were too high to do otherwise. Some would develop a taste for killing after their first kill, enjoy the life going out of the victims but, not him. He felt disgusted. This business was done and he wouldn’t be shooting anybody ever again.
Then he remembered what he should have remembered before he pulled his gun. The kid. There was their kid. The shots he fired must have woken him up. So he put the gun back into its holster and turned towards the kid’s room. He didn’t need to go far. The boy was standing there peeking through the door, not particularly trying to hide. The kid would not scream or do something troublesome. He knew that because he knew the boy all too well. And he could not just kill him like his parents. He knew that too. And now the kid had seen him, he had to make it right with the kid.
“How long have you been standing there?” He asked as he sat down on the chair right next to the dead couple. Take away the mess and you could easily say that they were taking a nap on the chair. But now anybody could tell that they were dead, even a seven year old kid who had just arrived to the scene of crime.
The kid didn’t say anything. He just stood there.
The man waited. He waited for the kid to take it all in, to understand what just happened there. So when he felt the kid was ready, he called him again. And this time he knew the kid would do what was asked of him as he knew the kid all too well.
“Come here. Let’s talk.”
The kid slowly came forward avoiding the eye contact. He didn’t look at the ground either. That would look like he was weak and afraid. So he focused on the knees, knees of the killer. The assassin was impressed. The kid looked obedient but not scared of him either. The assassin remembered himself doing the same thing in school. And that had made all the difference when it came to those bullies. Those bullies had taken precaution when it came to him. He had looked like someone who would strike the first chance he got. So, after a few times of trying to harass him, they had given up. So, he knew that the trick worked. But he also knew the kid was not going to do anything troublesome that night. Because he knew the kid all too well.
“Sit down.” The kid did what he was told.
“Do you understand what happened here?”
The kid stayed silent.
“Answer me.” The assassin said in a cold menacing voice.
“You killed my parents.” Barely a whisper.
The assassin got up, walked up to the dead father and pulled out a case of cigarettes from his pocket. He lit one with the lighter from the kitchen rack.
“How did you know it would be there?” The kid inquired loudly this time, surprised.
“I know you all too well. You, and your dead parents.”
“What’s that supposed to mean? I have never seen you before.”
“You’ll know when the time comes.
“Is there anything you would like to ask me?”
This kid deserved to know what he could be told and what he could understand. But the assassin was wary of one question the kid might ask. And he wasn’t sure he could lie to the kid. He didn’t know if the kid would ask the question he couldn’t answer. Even when he thought really hard, he had no clue what the kid would ask.
The kid didn’t say anything.
“Well, if there is nothing. I guess I’ll be leaving now.
“Last chance.” Still he dreaded the kid.
The kid now looked right into the assassin’s eyes.
“How did it feel? Killing them, are you satisfied?”
The assassin was surprised. Not because of what the kid asked but because he has expected to see anger or revenge in the kid’s eye. Instead he saw nothing. No fear, no anger, no hatred.
“I am going to give you the honest answer kid. I owe you this much. And believe every word I say. You owe me that much.
“Yes, I shot your parents. I didn’t like it. I didn’t enjoy it. But I’d do it again if I had to. Do you understand me?”
The kid just looked into his eyes. Like he was searching for the degree of truth to his answer. Perhaps he found it because he took his eyes off of the assassin. This time, it was assassin’s turn to ask the question.
“How do feel about me? You must be angry.”
“Should I be?”
“I just killed your parents, kid. I think that answers your question?”
“Why-, Why did you kill them?”
The assassin still could not find event a hint of hatred and anger in the kid towards him. Maybe the kid had accepted that they were dead and there wasn’t anything he could do about it. In fact he didn’t seem too much grief-stricken either. Was it possible that this kid had known they deserved to die, anticipated even, that something like this would happen? But it was obvious that some part of this kid was glad they were dead.
“Why do you think?”
“They were bad people.”
The answer surprised him.
“Why would you say that?”
“They weren’t? Because I’m used to overhearing them talking. They used to think I was asleep. I don’t understand most of the things they talked about but I know enough to figure out they weren’t good people.”
“Is that why you do not hate me?”
“What makes you think I do not hate you?”
The kid answered in a tone that disturbed him. The kid was bright as the assassin had been. He knew that. But he was also able to hide his emotions. Now this was a surprise to the assassin. Maybe that’s what made him so successful. The kid hated him after all.
“How long were you standing there? Did the gunshots wake you?”
“No. The yelling. It was the yelling. You were shouting at my father. I just came to see what was happening.”
“So you saw all the whole thing!” The assassin whispered to himself.
There was a long silence. None of them spoke. The assassin was glad that the kid hadn’t asked the question he dreaded. He didn’t know what he would have said if the kid had. Finally, he felt like he had said everything he had to do say to the kid. The kid didn’t say anything to contradict him either. The assassin gave the kid one advice before he left, the one advice someone had given him on the night he remembered nothing else about.
“You say you overheard them talking. Just remember what you heard. Repeat it every night before you go to sleep. Write it down if you have to. But don’t forget it. You’ll figure everything out when the time comes. And if you still hate me or seek revenge, you’ll find me when you grow up. That’ll be easy. But the revenge, it won’t be easy. I’ll tell you that. Remember what I said.”
But the assassin knew it was unlikely that the kid would.
So he left. And he knew that the kid didn’t even look at him as he left through the kitchen door. He went to the roof. Moments later a vessel arrived to pick him up.
“Is it done?” The man with the glasses demanded.
“Yeah. Just get me out.”
“Don’t beat yourself up man. They had to die. Now don’t get me wrong, I get it. They were your parents and all but they had to die. They didn’t even deserve to live anyway. And did you meet yourself? I mean the kid version of you? Man, that must have been something! Same person from two points of timeline in the same room. Did he live up to your expectations? I know, I know-”
“Do you ever shut up? Just take us back. We shouldn’t be here any longer.” The assassin interrupted, annoyed at the man in the glasses.
“Just trying to make conversation man. Whatever you say. Lets go back to the present. Or should I say into the future, as we are in our past. Get it? Our present has now become the future. It is sort of a funny situation if you think about it. We came from the future. So is this our present or the time where we came from is our present? Confusing-”
“I swear to god, if you utter one more word, I will kill you.”
The man with the glasses fell silent.
As a kid, the assassin hadn’t remembered that much about the night his parents were killed. What he remembered about that night was the man and dead bodies of his mom and dad in the kitchen. And they had talked. But he didn’t remember what they talked about. But before leaving the man had given that advice with a look of pity on his face. The same advice he had just given to the kid version of himself. Now he knew what he and the man had talked about and who the man had been. And he remembered everything. But he didn’t remember hating the man. Maybe the kid will not hate him either given time. And now just as he had pitied himself while giving the kid the advice, he knew the pity from the man from his past was not aimed at him but at the man himself. And he thanked the man from so long ago. He thanked himself from his future. And he knew the kid will also thank him too one day.
