The Burden of a Life

I sparked the air with the ignition of my lighter, letting the already hazy air fill with the scent of the burning tobacco that rested lazily between my lips. I stood there; eyes closed with my knobby masculine hands embedded into my thick overcoat letting the flickering street light illuminate my body. He was supposed to meet me here an hour ago though his late presence could mean next to nothing to me, I knew he would show. I raised my fingers to take a long and mournful drag from my cigarette before exhaling the shapeless smoke from my lungs only to watch it dance towards the night sky until it disappeared into oblivion, much like my soul.

It had been almost a year today sense I last saw her face on that pitiful day. I remember it so well...even the scent of the wet pavement remained still framed in my mind. She was a young thing and a year ago I considered myself one as well. However, her permanent absence made me grow old in the heart and worn in the soul. She had strait blonde hair, perfect skin and legs for miles with crystal blue eyes that pulled you into the deepness that was her abyss of a soul. She lured me in with those eyes...thus how I met her to begin with. Her name...which still brings tears to my eyes...was Faye, Faye Lilly. That night I was hunting but blindly got distracted by her. Back then I was still what I am today, just not as dead; before I met her I knew nothing but pain and the endless suffering that man kind impaled upon me and the suffering I repented upon them. I did it for money; but now I do it for revenge.

The day she died (no doubt her death was a piece of work) would always be one that I remember. It was raining; the type of rain where it pours for about ten minutes and then subsides to few or no drops. We were out in daylight together, which was my first mistake. She never knew anything about me, the real me that is. The person I became after the moon shoved its neighboring sun behind the horizon. Only to reveal a sleepless night that was illuminated by the wax of the moon tainted with a twinge of blood. No...I couldn't tell her and perhaps that tore me apart more than seeing her deceased body lying in the street before me on that dreary day.

I recall it well...us hand and hand together as we crossed the sopping wet streets in the mid morning rush of things. She looked at me merrily and gave me her brightest smile that I returned as best I could while still trying to make it look effortless. I did love her...but when you're someone like me...such things are hard to show. The attack was discreet and some considered it un-traceable but luckily the minority rules on matters such as these. Faye ascended upon the sidewalk and almost as if her weight triggered an unknown force, she was shot point blank in-between her breasts. The energy that was inflicted from the bullet sent her off balance and back into the street, her already dead body slamming into a puddle that quickly mixed with her blood.

Just like that, she was taken from me. Something I cherished loved and adored more than anything I ever had in my entire existence was gone in a fraction of a second. I never told her I loved her and never told her enough how beautiful she was when she rolled out of bed in the morning. I never let her see who I was, or what I was but in the end, neither did she. Several months after her departure from this world I did an intense background check and discovered she was a federal spy. We both lived secretive lives, yet never knew one way or the other. All I could hope, if there even is such a thing as hope, is that she died without regret.

And now I stand here in the cold of December on the eve of the night when her spirit passed beyond my reach. With now half burned cigarette, I awaited the arrival of someone who would give me what I desired.

"James?" I heard the thick hallow voice sound off in front of me and then echo down the empty street.

"You have it then?" James wasn't my real name. It was nothing more than a counter fit label I had given myself for the sake of keeping my identity a secret. The man, who called himself Dryan, extended his hand to me and I snatched up the simple piece of paper that was neatly folded in thirds and said nothing. Then I turned my back to him and walked away from that timid street light and the befuddled man. I let the cigarette drop from my mouth as I continued downed my wavering path of eternal uncertainty and regret. The burden...no...the life of a bounty hunter is a sinful one...but tonight...all my sin shall be repented through the death of a single individual who caused one death and killed...one love.