Nightmares

Nightmares

It was zero hour.

Too late for second thoughts. Now we had to go through with it, no matter what the consequences. This president thought he could restrict our rights? Well, he’d see what happens when you crossed our paths.

Micheal, Matt, and Vincent were close behind me. Good. This part was extremely important, and we couldn’t afford the slightest fuck up.

Nothing major. Just a drop of cyanide in the man’s drink and we’d be gone. There would be no trace of what we did. A good, normal death, that’s what it would look like. But if we didn’t hurry, we’d be caught for sure.

I motioned for the others to speed up. Vincent was our distraction; he was related to the president. He’d walk in, call the president away, and then we would alter his bedtime meal and be gone in less than five minutes, if all went well.

The fool refused to have a camera in his rooms.

That would be his downfall.

We ducked into a nearby alcove and Vincent was gone. A few minutes later, he walked out with his uncle.

This was the most delicate part.

Matt ran quietly to watch the hallway from behind a tall statue of some long-dead relative to the president. Micheal went to secure our exit. I took the small plastic package from my pocket and walked into the large dining room.

One minute had passed.

Four left.

I looked at the ornate table with it’s fancy cutlery laid out, an exquisite chicken meal abandoned for the time being. I walked to the end of the table, to that empty chair and solitary wine glass.

Three minutes left.

I took the small package up, carefully undoing the seal. I couldn’t drop it. It had to be ground up, or else it wouldn’t dissolve in time. I placed the package on the table and rested the small pill on top, taking a Swiss army knife from my pocket, and started to grind it.

Two minutes.

I finished hurriedly, picking the package up gingerly and pouring the deadly dust into the red liquid of his wine glass. I walked quickly out of the room, signaling for Matt to follow me. We rushed quietly as possible down the hallway.

One minute.

A servant was coming. We ducked into a closet, waiting, as she passed. We snuck out again, coming to the stairs that would lead to the door.

Just thirty seconds left in our schedule. If Matt and I weren’t outside by then, Micheal would leave by himself. That was the plan.

With just ten seconds to spare, we were out the door and running to the waiting topaz at the end of the driveway. After that, we were gone, with no trace that we had ever arrived.

The papers said he died of a stroke.

I sat straight up in my bed, drenched in sweat. It had been three years since then, and I can’t seem to escape the nightmare. I didn’t think about it then, but now…I killed a man. We found out later that he had kids, which his ex-wife had custody of. Those kids, because of me, have to grow up without a father.

I had moved since then. I don’t even talk to my accomplices anymore. I had hoped, by moving, I could make another life for myself.

It was a futile dream. I’m a murderer, no matter where I go.

I wish I could atone for what I’ve done, without putting my old friends in danger.

I wish there was some way to relieve the guilt.

There isn’t.

I’m a killer.