Ok so I wrote this a while ago. I'm still trying to perfect it, and need some critics.
Be frank.
I gazed at the wall, the simple two green and off white striped patterns, the painting of Venezuela. It all seemed to blend perfectly into a blur. So plain. So disgustingly boring.
I turned my head at Doc, he was fiddling with his pen, which I have to say for myself was pretty nice, you know, for a pen.
"You gettin this Doc?" I snarled. Were people paying this guy to pretend to listen or something?
He looked up slowly. "Of course I'm still listening. Excuse me for looking as if otherwise. And I'd prefer Jim or Mr.Crowley."
"I pay you 75 bucks an hour. I can call you what I damn well please." The bitterness in my voice alarmed him. I liked it. Did he think I didn't notice how he said nothing about what I just told him? I have a sharper bullshit detector then he thinks. I could imagine why someone wants this fool dead.
"Uhm, yes well. As for what you were saying, Why do you think its happening to you?" This guys a joke.
"Whats happening to me? You tell me Doc, after all your the doctor. Or wait...would you like me to do the diagnosis? Hmm? How bout I figure out whats going on with me? Hell, I'll get a diploma and everything!"
I started to yell, and it scared him. I hate these kinda jobs. The client told me to come here for about 3 weeks before I put this guy were he belongs, he never told me why though. I hate when they leave out information.
"First of all, I'm not a doctor. I'm a psychiatrist, second I'm just trying to get you to explore you're feelings." He tried to sound calm, professional.
"Forget this. I'm finishing the job now."
"What are you talking about?" His puzzled face amused me. Ether I'm a great actor or this guys as stupid as he looks.
I took a swing at him. I felt my knuckles slide off of his check and cut themselves on his teeth. I paused.
Doc looked at me with terrified eyes. Trying to crawl away.
I was the bird, he was the worm.
I grabbed his sweat filled collar. One more time, I felt my fist against his face. This time taking his teeth with him as it left. I threw him back on the floor, then placing my foot on his neck. I pushed.
And pushed.
And pushed.
I felt his heart stop beating. The blood on my hands started to drip.
The felling of adrenaline left my body.
Poor, poor Mr.Crowley. He losses his life, I get my money. One less bug to inhabit this pile of rubble we call home.
I'm not new at this or anything, but its a bit different killing somebody you know. Looking at their body, the lifeless corpse that belonged to somebody you once knew, was a bit unsettling. Even for somebody in my field of profession. What was I to do with the body? I only had 2 hours before the session was up and the next scheduled fool walked in. I gazed at the window. I walked over to it slowly, making sure to keep my feet out of the blood. As I looked out the window, bitterness and disappointment flooded my mind. I originally figured If the window was placed in a vacant place, I could grab Mr.Crowley's body and get out of here. But unfortunately a more complex plan was in order.
I turned my head to look at the clock, I only had an hour and a half left. I couldn't consentrate. I hadn't time to plan this out. I was supposed to kill him with bare hands, and I had to take the body they said that much. But they also said I would have obvious means of escaping. I looked all over the room, there was nothing. I was beginning to panic. This job was not supposed to be risky. I was sloppy I took no precautions.
I searched the room one more time when I noticed the faint hollow sound of people talking in my ear.
There was an air vent somewhere in here. I moved around until the sound got closer and closer, till finally I discovered it was behind the dresser. I pushed the dresser out of the way and once again, bitterness and disappointment. The air duct was barely big enough to fit my head in, let alone my whole body. God dammit! I wasn't supposed to worry about this! I paused and thought back to the first and last time I ever met with the client.
He had short blond hair and wore a gray suit with a black tie. A very intelligent man, didn't look like the kinda guy to be involved with murder.
I remember the emotionless way he said things as he talked.
"The mark is Jim Crowley, a psychiatrist. Go to him as a patient for about 3 weeks, then kill him with you're hands, no weapon. Grab the body and get out, where to escape will be obvious when you get there. I have a plan, that is sure to come together perfectly. Don't ask any questions, for it could put the whole plan in jeopardy. Additional information will be sent to you via mail. You will be payed handsomely when I see the body."
I really didn't think much of it. A lot of these guys act like their hiding something, so it wasn't unusual for them to leave out info.
Reality hit me like brick against the back of my head.
Nothing he said was helpful. Dammit, what do I do? This was no longer a job, this was my life on the line. What if I got caught? Would I get the chair? No, I won't get caught. I can't get caught. Not now. No, no, no no. I looked at the clock again, 10 minutes. I'm screwed. I'm royally screwed
The vibrations in my phone startled me. This was my work phone, so it had to be the client. I picked it up right away and answered.
"What the hell do I do!? You said it would be obvious!" I screamed into the phone.
"Yes, yes I did. I told you my plan would come together perfectly." He acted like everything was normal. What the hell is wrong with this guy!?
"So where the hell am I supposed to escape from?!" I looked at the clock. 2 minutes left.
I felt sweat drip from my forehead. My blood felt like it was boiling inside my skin.
"Isn't it obvious? Your not." The line disconnected.
