*The sun is up... Finally...* Another day, another dollar. Who's the next contestant on The Price is Right? According to the package, it's Daniel and Jennifer Wainwright.
Today's job is a family affair.
I hear the front door open and close, then Mark Wainwright calling out, "Honey, I'm home!" Christ, what a cliché.
He comes strolling into the kitchen and the stupid smile on his face twists into a horrified rictus at the sight of his wife and six-year-old son seated at the kitchen table with
their throats cut. Wainwright wails like a wounded animal, and I fire my taser at his chest, delivering yet another shock to his system.
When he wakes, Wainwright's tied to a chair, his head and eyelids taped so he can't escape the tableau of his murdered family. "OH, GOD!" he screams and starts sobbing. "Mark... Mark...
" I calmly repeat his name until he's paying attention. "Dawson says hi," I tell him.
And that's the job.
I survey the scene before I leave. The mother and son look so peaceful and rested. It makes me jealous. I wish I could rest.
*But how can a monster like you sleep at night?* I don't, thank you very much. My mind chatters away non-stop whenever I try.
I'm like a shark swimming through life, blood in my wake, never staying still.
Everyday I punch someone's ticket and I envy them and I hate them and I hate myself and every night I go drinking and drugging and fighting and fucking and I can't ever fucking stop and I
can't *MOTHERFUCKING SLEEP* and then...
*The sun is up... Finally...* Another day, another dollar...