The Bringer of Death

It's almost three o'clock in the morning and I am outside an adult entertainment club waiting for Daniel Weston, because in a few minutes I'm going to introduce him to death.

Parasites like Daniel made me who I am today: an addict hooked on the drug of murder. And trust me when I tell you there was nothing more fulfilling than ridding society of them.

Over the last few weeks I had been waiting and watching Daniel, gathering data, familiarizing myself with habitual patterns. It wasn't easy fighting the pressure, the burning desire rising in me like a volcano roaring to erupt with a heavy vengeance to come face to face with this thing, but, patience was necessary. A creature of Daniel's stature offered no margin for error. 

You'd think owning one of the top real estate brokerages inside the GTA would have been enough. It wasn't — not for him anyway. His insatiable hunger for more wasn't to go unnoticed even to when he had everything: wealth, two beautiful daughters and a wife most men would kill for. To think he'd give all that up for his own salacious desires was criminal and punishable by death, especially for what he had been doing behind closed doors.

I watched Daniel as he exited the club from the back entrance, his signature smile curving his lips, his arm firmly around another woman who looked like she had just finished her shift. She was small, curvaceous, and looked no older than twenty-three. They both turned to face each other, her arms entangled around his neck, his around her waist. He said something to her and she laughed, pressing her head against his chest. Daniel gently glided his hands through her hair, petting it as if she were a newborn puppy. 

They broke away and he took something out from the inside of his blazer, handing it to her. Looked like a business card. She laughed again and leaned in for a kiss. Daniel gently took her face into his hands and parted her lips beneath his. Both of them went back and forth, tilting their heads side to side. After about a minute of swapping saliva he walked her to her car, his hand resting against the small of her back before sliding towards her ass, slapping it before she got in. There was another brief exchange between the two before her bubble gum pink BMW i8 exited the parking lot, disappearing into the night.

Daniel started towards his car, licking his lips, bobbing his head ever so slightly back and forth. The excitement in my chest bounced off my ribs as I put on my latex gloves, hearing them snap as I pulled them to my wrists. I took a deep breath and released several weeks of anticipation surging within my veins. There could be no emotions; they clouded judgment.

Daniel dug into his pocket and slipped his wedding ring back onto his finger before pointing his remote at his car. I heard the engine hum, the click of the doors unlocking, the lights springing to life picking up the back entrance of the club. He opened the door and sat down, fastening his seat belt.

"Only if my wife had a pair of tits and a piece of ass like her," he said chuckling. "Stupid bitch."

I sat up in his backseat. "I'm disappointed in you, Daniel."

He gasped and turned half around to look at me. "What the fu—"

I quickly slipped the noose around his neck, forty-pounds of coiled titanium fishing wire twisting and tightening as he choked and gargled, his body fidgeting like a fish out of water. "Do as I say and you'll live a bit longer." Our eyes met into his rear-view mirror and it looked as if he had seen a demon staring back at him, my face covered in a black ski mask only showing my eyes. "Do you understand?" The fabric of my mask moved across my lips as I spoke.

Fear must've paralyzed him as he hadn't responded, his eyes wild and filled with panic. "Do you understand?" I pulled on the noose harder and he yelped.