Page 6 of Adam
I run my fingers through my hair and walk out of the place, with Michael following close behind, eager to start talking. I mount my beautiful black R1M and take my leather gloves in hand.
“How lucky are you, huh?” He crosses his arms. “I’ve been wanting to end this bastard for months now.”
“It’s fucking time, buddy.” I smile broadly, unable to believe my luck. “Maybe I’ll record his last moments and save it on my phone. Nothing relaxes me like watching a man realize he’s out of time.”
“You know you can’t kill him the same day he hires you, right? It’ll raise suspicions.”
I clap my hands once and rub them together. “Oh, I’ll skewer him like a fucking kebab.”
“Adam …”
“This bastard. This … this fucking mafia cockroach! I’ll rip his guts out, maybe let him write a thank-you note and shove it in his ass right before he begs me to?—”
“Adam!”
“What?”
“You’re being sadistic again,” Michael blurts, his brown eyes widening.
“And?”
“We’re just hitmen, pal. We’re not butchers.”
“Speak for yourself.” I pull my leather jacket’s sleeves higher. “Nothing satisfies me more than killing those bastards.”
“Why? What have they done to you?”
“Well … let’s just say they’ve earned it.”
He doesn’t say any more. He’s probably trying to solve the puzzle.
Michael’s the only person in this shithole I don’t mind being around. I wouldn’t say we’re as close as brothers, but he’s a nice guy. Maybe too nice to exist in a world of blood and punishments.
“Leave it, man. Let’s go out for drinks. My treat,” I say, putting on my gloves.
“Not that I wouldn’t love to see you lost in your little delirium for a bit longer, but Maria is waiting for me.”
“Married life isn’t much fun now, huh?”
“Shut up. I love her.”
I cross my arms and raise a brow. “Does she know what her husband’s hobbies are?”
He lets out a long exhale. “No, and there’s no reason for her to know. So I can’t tell her that I’ll go out with my sadistic butcher mate.”
“You can skip the colorful compliments.” I wink.
He chuckles. “Celebrate yourself. You’ve earned it.” He pats my shoulder. “From tomorrow, your life will be much better. And a few others’, of course.”
If he only knew how right he is.
No one hands you evil on your first breath. You invite it in slowly, until it takes over. Then it no longer feels like a choice, but a bane you can’t outrun.
You don’t wake up one day and decide to lose your soul.
It slips away while you’re not looking.
“Come on, Dad, it’s just a drink.”
