#ramine

 “I hate this...” you sighed, just two seconds after you had woken up- Sstared at the ceiling with the lazy spinning fan. Not more than two seconds, before you remembered everything again. The world. Your world. Your problems. Your new target, for tomorrow. …

 You had never thought of yourself to be sensitive for depression or something like that. But now, all you wanted was to stay in bed in enjoy your last day Madagascar's paradise.

 Why did this creepy woman have to call me? I mean- Not that She actually called me- But still! Couldn't it wait?  “Ugh....” you sighed annoyed. Pissed. Really, really pissed. But in the end, it was that pissed of feeling, that got you out of bed. You wouldn't give her that. You wouldn't give Mother that triumph of crawling inside your head again.

 So you got up and made yourself ready for the day. Already packed a few things- …. Well, almost everything, to be exact. You just couldn't help yourself. Getting stuff done and being prepared was a big part of you. People like you, always have to be prepared. They need to instinctively think everything through. Know, everything. Prepare, for everything.

 “Surprises. Accidents. Faults. Those things don't happen. Ever. They are not allowed to happen with what you will do. You, are not allowed to let them happen.” you recited the words of Mother. The very first lecture that you had learned, when your training had begun.

 Back then, when you had been still a child and had heard those words- They had scared you. But as you had learned more and more, to do the 'job' you do-; Then you had found it quite reasonable. Normal, even. Because, if you fuck up, you fuck up! No one will save you. You will be 'seen'. People will notice and remember you, instead of disappearing into the void of a crowd. And when they will see and notice you, you will become the target.

 Is that why Jane- … Did she fuck up? But where? When??

 “Don't you ever wanna do something different with your life?” you remember the words of your best friend; Feel a lump in your throat as you remember the judging- Almost mocking look that you had given her in that moment.

 “What life?” had been your answer. Cold. Mocking. Distant; Before your attention had wandered at something else again. Something 'more important'. …

 You hadn't thought about your reaction to her and that it might have hurt her. That it had build a distance between you and her. But now, you realized that; And it made that memory taste so bitter now. So heavy. Gooey. Like gasoline in your mouth.

 “Ugh!” you shrugged disgusted, as another memory popped up in your head. “That was so disgusting.“

 One time, you had been a fight with two people, who had managed to overpower you. Some sadistic bitches, who had broken both of your legs and dislocated your shoulder. That was a moment where You had fucked up. You had miscalculated them. Why? Well- You still didn't like to admit it; But it had been pride. Too much of it. You had been so fucking full of yourself, after Mother had praised you for your talent and had named you, as one of the best she had ever had under her wings. … You didn't trust her- But shit! That praise really had gotten to you. And it had gotten you in trouble. Bad trouble. It had almost been your K.O. Your end.

 You would still have been able to get those bitches with just two broken legs; Or one broken leg and a dislocated shoulder. But all three together? ... Fuck....

 If it hadn't been for Jane -who had ran after you, and had shot those fuckers, just as she had a visual; … She had made you throw up in a plastic bag, right there, to get that gasoline out of you and not leave any evidence. After that, she 'fixed' your shoulder, your legs, removed the bodies of those fuckers- And then bleached the shit out of this place, before she set it on fire.

 Fire doesn't destroy blood. Therefore the bleach. … But she didn't have to do all that. She could have just called some people from the company, to clean up the mess. That's what protocol says! But she didn't. She didn't do it because of you; So Mother would still think highly of you.

 “Have you grown tired of mud-masks?” was what Jane had said, when she saw the gasoline all over you.  “This is the most disgusting thing I've ever experienced.” did you answer back then and she had laughed.

 And as you thought back of it now- You had to smile as well. But it didn't last long. You heard her voice again:

“We can't do this forever. And you know that.”

*SHOT*

“Don't you ever wanna do something different with your life?”

 “What life?” you mumbled one last time and started to distract yourself for the whole day.

 Driving around and stopping anywhere. That's pretty much how you had distracted yourself for the past 3 weeks. You had rented a white (kinda almost beige) 404 Peugeot convertible. An old-timer! You barely got the chance to drive a cool car like that. Your job required reliable equipment. Just as your private life. It needed to be 'boring'. You always had to stay low, all the time. Damn, at this point, you had stopped counting how many times you had a Chevy Impala for a job in California....

 Another thing about an old-timer like this particular one, is: They are loud. Also less save and pretty uncomfortable to drive. But you didn't care about that. You were so glad to enjoy the stream of air while driving. Being so close to the environment; Listening to the radio; Enjoying the view and the freedom to just stop anywhere you wanted. A restaurant or cafe. A beach. Or just the side of the road. It's been a long time, since you had so much time for yourself. Or freedom. To think. About everything and nothing.

 Yourself. Jane. Yourself. Jane again. Yourself, as a child. And trying to figure out, where you would be now, if Mother wouldn't have taken you in. If you would have never taken that lollipop.

 I think I would be dead. did you think, every time you wondered about that. Most, of the times. Except now.

 “I could be normal.” you mumbled and- WHAT?!

 You hit the brake instantly, just after those words had left your lips. Thankfully, you were in the middle of nowhere and no one had been behind you. That sudden stop could have been one hell of a crash!

 “N-Normal?“ you stuttered and placed your hand on your chest. Felt your heart racing. Aching. But no adrenaline. “What the fuck..?”

 “You are very talented , child. Maybe one day, you'll be the one handing out lollipops.” you heard Mothers words from years ago; Felt, how she had pet your little head back then. But- … But now there was something different about this memory. About those words. They didn't comfort you anymore. They didn't make you happy. No. They made you shiver. Scared. You felt goosebumps all over your body. And this reaction scared you even more.

Shit.

 This was not good. Someone like you, was not supposed to feel like that. Scared. You were a professional for illegal activities. An expert in killing. Killing, on contract. For Money! Money and Only Money! You were not supposed to want a normal life. There Is no 'normal' for you in this world. And for a while, this was exactly what you wanted.  But now-?

 You turned off the engine. You needed to think for a second. Or two. Three. … Actually half an hour had passed, as your mind came back into the real world. And when it did; You started the engine again and drove back to that little town you had passed. You needed a drink.

 It took you 15 minutes until you got there. You stopped in front of the first building, that looked like it had alcohol. There was one free spot, almost in front of the entrance; You parked there. It was a small, old and a little wrecked building. But that had it's own charm. The door stood wide open and you could already see the bar. You stepped inside and headed directly at it- Ordered a drink. Waited until it was ready and then walked to the back, where you could sit outside; The beach and the ocean, right in front of you.

 You sat down at a free table and just- Just looked towards the water and drank. You tried not to think. But you couldn't stop your mind, of course. And instead of thinking of nothing- You thought of Everything. Everything, that had brought you Right Here. Every job. Jane. The training of the company- … The lollipop. And the orphanage. And as you thought back to all that, you couldn't ignore that you felt something, that you had never expected to feel. Regret. … You felt regret.

  Why?

 After how many years-? After how many job-? How many deaths you've caused- Completed from a list-! How could you suddenly feel regret?

 “We can't do this forever. And you know that.”

 “You are very talented , child.”

 “Don't you ever wanna do something different with your life?“

 “Smart child. Stay suspicious.”

 “What life?”

  The moment you had seen your best friend get shot- Was the worst thing you ever had to see. Although You had seen and done worse. In comparison to some of the stuff you've done- This had been quick. 'A quick job.' A 'Quicky', as you and Jane had named those kind of jobs.  But this time, you had been right 'on stage'. You were part of the play- The tragedy. Your very own. Another, tragedy.

 You had totally forgotten that things like that happened. Tragedies. Loss. Unfairness. That they happen all the time, in life. You had forgotten it. You had blinded it out. Life. Being alive. You had been so stuck in the never ending 'work'. So stuck in the cycle- The environment of people you were still in. You hadn't noticed it. Until now.

 You looked at your hands. They seemed so different; Real. You, felt real. Suddenly everything was much more present. Alive. Real. Everything you heard; The ocean, the music of the bar, the chatter of the other costumers, clinking of glasses, the cars on the road behind the building; The colors- They were all so much more vibrant and bright. The smells- Ocean-water, the sweet note of alcohol and limes, some grilled fish in the distance...

 You placed your fingers at your throat- Right over the veins and- And you felt it. You felt your pulse. You heart, pumping blood through your body. Keeping it alive.  Alive. You realized. I am alive.

 It surprised you. Feeling that you are alive. It even disappointed you a little. But most, it confused you.

 “We can't do this forever. And you know that.” you remembered Jane's words for the thousand time.

 But what else shall I do, if not This? What else is out there for me? Can I even have a normal life?  …  …  …  …  Shut up, stupid! When did you become so baby-sentimental?

 You shook your head. Yeah. Yeah you were just stupid. Unnecessarily sentimental. You grabbed your glass to take another sip- But it was empty.

 An annoyed and tired sigh left your mouth. You didn't wanna get up, but you also wanted another drink; And you kinda needed to go to the bathroom. Being alive is very stressful....

 You got up and headed back to the bar- Through the very narrow standing tables. There weren't many costumers. Just an old couple, playing cards and having coffee. Two friends having a beer each and some bread-sticks. And a tired looking man, with a thick brown beard and a walking-stick, leaning against his table. And just as you noticed the walking-stick, you thought:  He should put this thing somewhere else. Someone might knock it over by accident.

 Anyway. You ordered another drink at the bar and went to the bathroom. Then, on your way back to your table, you collected your drink- Before you made your way through the narrow standing tables again and- And of course-! As you passed the one with the bearded dude, you knocked his walking-stick over.

 Didn't I just think of it? You thought annoyed, but didn't say it. “Sorry.” you excused and bowed down to grab it for him.

 “No problem.” did you hear the mans voice and thought it sounded way too young for him. You hadn't seen his face yet; But you had expected his voice to sound a little older or fragile.

 “Thanks for picking it up for me.” you heard him, just as you leaned the walking-stick at his table again.

 “Of course.” you said, straightened up and looked into his face for the first time and- Saw the genuinely patient smile he gave you. His tired eyes. Blue, Gray and Green. His brown hair, that was a little longer and the beard, that was covering his cheeks- But you recognized him. Recognized the thin scar at his hairline. A band-aid on his forehead.

 That can't be. “Don't mention it.” you said. Calm. Nice and polite. With an apologizing smile. While your thoughts were exploding.

 You sat down at your table again; Played 'normal' and looked at the ocean again. Seemingly. When actually, you paid full attention on the very Raphael Adler, a few tables behind you. Your target for (technically) tomorrow. The rich prick, whose family wanted him dead. The job, that would test if you were able to go back to your usual doing at the company.

 You weren't thinking of anything else now. All attention was on him. All the time. Those almost 10 minutes, that he still remained at his table- Until he got up eventually. His steps, distinctive with the walking-stick.  He reached the bar. He passed it. Walked further. Outside. Leaving.

 This was when you got up. Acted all normal. You passed the bar. You walked further. Outside. Left the building and looked around- For him. But he was gone.

Shit!

 ******

Thank you for reading. I don't know what it is at the moment, but I can bring myself barely to do anything. Writing is so hard. I had this chapter practically written down, from months ago. But still ended up writing it all over again. It felt good to write. I don't even know why I'm writing this down here...