[ WP ] You are legally allowed to commit murder once , but you must fill out the proper paperwork and your proposed victim will be notified of your intentions

Paranoia swarmed my side of the neighborhood. 
 
 Ever since the new ‘ legal homicide act ’ became a law, I hadn ’ t seen hide nor hair of any of the local sleeze balls. The government decided it would make for a safer city, at least in the long run. The idea behind Mayor Kane ’ s act was that if a person was sentenced to death by the government, there would be riots in the streets, but if a person was to be put to death by a simple citizen, then there would be no reason to argue. All of the wealthy, upper class, citizens of the city voted yes on the matter, of course. Why wouldn ’ t they? They could, for once, use their power and social statuses to do something that made them feel even holier than ever before. 
 
 It seemed like an easy enough choice, or at least it did to those who would be signing the final paperwork. Where I come from, however, social status and wealth weren ’ t exactly two things that went hand in hand. Most of the people in my apartment complex were your every day, common, run of the mill petty criminals. Most of us in the lower side of Starlight were struggling every day just to make ends meet, so that usually meant stealing a loaf of bread here or there. Of course, there were the more hardened criminals around as well, and in the back of my mind, I knew they ’ d be the ones to be summoned first. Of course, just as the Mayor had said, though, it would only be a matter of time before the good weeded out the evil in the city. Could one law allowing a single murder per person really be enough to straighten up our broken down city? 
 
 I have my doubts, but what do I know? I ’ m only fifteen. The most criminal thing I ’ ve ever done was that time I stole a pack of gum from the corner store, and even then I brought it right back to the clerk. The guilt had been too much for me to handle, even at the age of seven. No, the law didn ’ t really seem to affect me, but I knew that it would mean something to rest of my family. You see, we aren ’ t just a typical lower class, urban, family. We ’ re what the government likes to call bottom feeders. My mom, as sweet as she is, can manipulate her way into any Congressman ’ s bed and walk out with his wallet half an hour later. My father, may Satan spite his dilapidated soul, could be considered the ring leader of our little side show. I don ’ t like to admit it, but it ’ s definitely a patriarchal system in our apartment. Even though he hasn ’ t actually committed a crime in years, he controls everything that goes on in the complex. I wasn ’ t old enough to join the family business yet, but my older brother was. He ’ d been out patrolling the streets since he turned seventeen, and he was already making a name for himself as one of the most infamous drug pushers in the Cabin—that ’ s what our complex was nicknamed. I was slowly approaching my sixteenth birthday, and I knew that meant it would be the start of my training, but I didn ’ t want that to happen. I wanted nothing to do with our business, their business, but I just…Oh? Sorry, I ’ m getting off topic, aren ’ t I? 
 
 
 I can remember the day the law went into effect like it was yesterday. I was sitting in the living room, reading one of the few books I was allowed to have in the house, when news broke all over the city. My Father ’ s associate, or maybe lacky would be a better term, busted into the apartment, tears streaming down his dirty face, and I could see by the look in his eyes that he was already planning his nickel and dime funeral in his head. From that moment on, it was all my family could talk about. You see, they ’ d all pissed off a lot of people in the city, the wealthy especially, so it was only a matter of time before Death started a ’ knockin ’ on our door, and my Momma wasn ’ t having any part of that. She came up with all of these plans, schemes really, to get us out, but she didn ’ t ever get the chance. But I ’ ll get back to that in a minute. 
 
 
 One by one, the whore houses started to shut down around the lower side. The call girls were afraid of bedding the husband of an angry wife, so they closed up shop—even if it meant taking a major pay cut. I for one was glad to see the changes happening around the city, but of course I would have been beat senseless had I said any of that out loud. It finally got to the point where no one on my street even came out of their houses anymore, unless they really had to, but I don ’ t really know why. It wasn ’ t like they could hide their pasts just by staying locked up in their bedrooms all day and night. My brother did the same, but the withdrawls started getting to him real bad, so one day he decided to just try going outside. He was only gone for a couple of hours, but turns out in that time he held up a small corner store just outside of our neighborhood, and not two days later—his letter came. 
 
 
 It ’ s a real formal sort of event, isn ’ t it? Two government officials, clad all in black, came to our door wearin ’ the most polite looks on their faces. My parents started screaming their heads off, saying how it was a mistake and that Thomas was a ‘ good boy ’, but once the I ’ s were dotted and T ’ s were crossed, none of that mattered. The letter stated that the shop keeper wanted it to happen in his store, so two days later the cops came and dragged him away from the house, kicking and sobbing the whole way. It was quick, and I assumed as humane as it could have been, because the old shop keeper didn ’ t really look too happy to be doing it—but his wife sure did, though. In that moment, as I stood with my face buried in my Father ’ s shoulder, I decided that maybe it wasn ’ t such a good idea after all—this law thing…but what did I know? 
 
 
 Things started to get back to normal after Thomas ’ death, but only because the seedy insurance company that my dad hired paid us a hefty lump sum of money for our grief and pain. It kept my Momma closer to the straight and arrow then I ’ d ever seen her, but once that money dried up, so did her desires to be good. Like I said before, she ’ d been trying to get us out of the city, but on the eve of our big move to the state over, the door rang. I guess a set of diamond earrings had gone missing from the bedroom of one of her more wealthy clients, and even though the woman was perfectly fine with her husband sleeping around, she just couldn ’ t bear to live her life without those rocks, so we got yet another visit. 
 
 
 This one, unlike Thomas ’, wasn ’ t quite as formal. I guess they should have felt a little rough, you know, having to kill a teenager and all of that, but my Momma—she must have just looked like a bad seed. I didn ’ t know that the killers were allowed to choose their weapons, but the toaster in the bathtub seemed a little over the top, even for my Momma. It was quick, but it damn sure wasn ’ t painless. We could hear her screams from all the way outside the mansion. 
 
 
 So there we were, just me and my Father. I suddenly became more anxious, scared even, to be in the apartment. With two of his most successful employees gone, that just meant he had his eyes on me now—and I didn ’ t want his eyes on any part of me. He knew he was safe, because he was too lazy to do any actual work—even if it was just thieving and stuff like that. My birthday finally rolled around, and the minute I woke up, he was standing at my door with my present. Do you want to know what it was? Hm? Well, I will tell you. It was a short skirt, a tube top, and a pair of hooker boots. Can you imagine? 
 I didn ’ t stick around to hear him sing me happy birthday, though. I hightailed it out of there, and didn ’ t stop running until I was as far away from the Cabin as possible. It took me a while, years actually, but I finally managed to make a name for myself. A name that wasn ’ t attached to the Byrd clan of the lower side, even. I managed to slip my way into a theater one afternoon, and that was when I became an actress. It seemed perfect for me, I mean, I ’ d been pretending to be something I wasn ’ t my whole life, it only made sense that I should get paid for it. 
 
 
 Well, I ’ ll stop talking your ear off now, I just wanted to make sure I got this form filled out correctly. The news reporter said that tomorrow is the final day for the legal homicides, that after that the bill will be ineffective. I didn ’ t think it ’ d last this long, actually, but thank you so much for letting me come in after hours—I ’ m sure it ’ s rather unprofessional, but I really just wanted to get this gift over to my Father ’ s house as quickly as possible. 
 
 Sign here? Alright, I can do that. 
 
 
 

