Car Won't Start

Everyday in the wee hours of dawn, I shuffle out of bed, go to the bathroom, take a shower, get dressed, put on a pot of coffee, eat an apple, and then head off to my mundane job. Everyday. Every morning. Of course, today wasn't any other different.

It was a clear warm Winter dawn, and I was drinking my cup of Joe while watching the morning news. The local news always annoyed me with its blunt yellow-journalism of the most inane things. Yet I watched it just to find which routes were grid-locked because some dumbass crash his car or some unnecessary construction project. Luckily, my everyday routes were untouched by rush hour havoc. I finished my coffee, pickup my suitcase and headed out. It was 5 AM as I stepped outside in an unusual warm Winter morning. The air was cool and the sky had the deepest blueish black.

"A great day for work... dammit," I muttered to myself.

I always saw my job as mundane and boring, despite it being unusual and odd. I remember my young self being content and excited to go to work. I always loved seeing new people, solving new problems, and bring the big cash. I felt alive and thought I could do anything, but my job has lost its luster of the years unfortunately. Don't get me wrong, I'm good at what I do and still bring in big cash from days of my prime, but I got older and discontent. I here I am, a man in his forties that is way past his prime. I not am young anymore and this job is the only thing I know.

I could go back to school, but I am not exceptional student in any sort of sense, and I hate dealing with obnoxious people. That is probably way I got into this "career"... sigh. I walked up to the car and stubbornly jammed my keys in the car door. My car was the luxurious type with a lustrous dark black car paint, and the expensive brand that indicates only the wealthiest sum could only own. Though I didn't really like it, because it was just not my style, but it was essential to my work.

I got in the car and tried to started the ignition.

Nothing.

I tried to start again.

Nothing.

Well shit, I really needed to go work today, despite my discontent of the occupation. I needed to go out of town to finish up some business, and then notify my client of the job's completion, but the damn car couldn't start and I couldn't afford to have it towed. Maybe I could just sit on it for one more day. Maybe just pay that mechanic to work on my car without asking questions. I needed a day off anyways.

THUD, THUD, THUD, THUD

Shit, so much for my day off. The sound came from the trunk, she must have awoken to my attempts to start up the car. I couldn't have this, and I didn't want the neighbors poking around my car. I couldn't put my car in garage because of all of that clutter from my job in year past. Luckily, it was still early in the morning and most of the neighbors have not yet awoken. I got out of the car and went to the trunk. I quickly open it up, revealing a disheveled, bonded woman in her mid-twenties. She was covered in blood because the blows I had to give her in order obtain her. She was a fighter, so I had her hands, legs, and mouth tightly bonded with duct tape. There also a foul stench of excrement and urine. The fear and desperation in her pretty dark-brown eyes as she struggled to break free, and I couldn't have that. Whatever the reason why my client wanted her dead is nothing of my matter, nor I empathized the victim in sort of way.

I grabbed her by her hair and dragged her through into the house. Once again, no neighbors around during this time. I dragged her into the garage where I properly clean up the mess I'm going to make. The "clutter" I obtained over the years were the various torture devices that my raged filled young self used excessively. They are mostly mementos and relics of the past. Though I wasn't planning to torture her because it just isn't me. This whole thing wasn't me anymore. I grown tired of needlessly killing people for my clients' vengeful lust. I grown tired of laundering illegal money to keep doing what am doing. I grown especially tired of dealing with the world's scummiest people.

I seated the beaten woman on a chair and restrained her some more. I set a plastic tarp on the floor around her to make it easier to clean up. I pulled out my silencer and pointed it directly at her head. Maybe I didn't need to kill her now, but just keep her silent until I could get my car fixed. Maybe I didn't need to kill her at all, but just dump her off somewhere else and tell my client to fuck off. Maybe I just outgrew my vengeful, homicidal youth.

I looked into her eyes filled with fear and despair, desperate to live another day and I could grant her that. Maybe I could live a new, revitalized life without the burden of criminal life. Maybe someday. Without hesitation, I pulled the trigger and her head spattered the crimson red over the white plastic tarp, because after all, it was the only thing I knew.