[ WP ] A contract killer moves stealthily through the house intent on completing his objective . A little girl in her nightgown creeps behind him .

`` You're a bad man.'' 
 
 An apt description, if a little poorly phrased.'Bad' does n't quite describe the lows I've sunk to, but if you expect anything more from children you're bound to come out disappointed. She stands there, barely an outline in the pitch dark of the corridor, clutching her plush toy to her chest and looking up at me through curious, calculating eyes. That plush toy is the only thing telling me she's really there. It's bright as the fourth of July sky. 
 
 `` Yes.'' I say. Barely audible. `` I suppose I am.'' 
 
 Is a villain who admits to his crimes still a villain? Probably. Though with the world as morally bankrupt as it is, there are nothing but villains. Only question is how much of a villain are you. 
 
 `` Why are you so mean?'' She asks. 
 
 I suppose I've gotten lucky in a sense. Children are more apt to scream bloody murder when confronted with a stranger, dressed in black holding a silenced pistol, in the wee hours of the morning. I'm grateful to whatever higher power might exist - divine or cosmic - that she's kept her peace. Of course, the downside is I'm dealing with her questions. 
 
 It's my fault. I should have done a better job of surveying the mansion. Should have put the pieces together and realized there would be a very good reason for the swing-set outside, or the mini-van. Or any one of the forty-seven thing's I'd spotted outside that would indicate a child. Chalk it down to me getting sloppy in my old age and leave it there. 
 
 `` A few reasons.'' It's a stupid answer, and I know it as soon as it passes my lips. An answer no child will accept. Children ca n't grasp the I-don't-knows in life. They are deal in absolutes. There's either an answer or there is n't. In many ways it's a simpler philosophy, an easier ride. Do or do n't. Will or wo n't. 
 
 She steps out of the gloom as if emerging from a portal from another world. A leg first, barely longer than my forearm. Then a torso, a stuffed rabbit staring out at me from blank, dead eyes. At least there's no judgment there. Lastly her head, her curly dark hair a wild mane about her shapeless face. 
 
 `` My Daddy gets mean sometimes too.'' She says, and then looks down on the floor. That much I guessed by looking at her. 
 
 A dark bruise on the left side of her face. If I'd come a week ago it would have been fresh. Now it's as faded as old memories. 
 
 `` So did mine.'' I say. `` But I'm sure your Daddy wo n't get mean again, as long as you're good.'' 
 
 Daddy definitely wo n't get mean again. Daddy is asleep beside Mommy, a hole the width of a pinkie finger through their foreheads. It's a sleep neither of them will wake up from. 
 
 Who wanted them dead and why, I do n't know. I do n't ask questions. I take the money and I pull the trigger. I'm a service. A hired gun, a knife in the dark. I'm a tool. All I know is that Daddy was a Senator and Mommy was fucking her boss. 
 
 `` I'm sorry for what I said, you do n't seem so bad. What's your name?'' She asks with a smile. It's a smile that could sink a thousand ships, or melt a heart. It's warm. It's genuine. There are no second meanings, no lies. There's no pain, no hurt, and no suffering. 
 
 I've known a smile like it before, but she was taken from me a long time ago. 
 
 I realize there's no one around to hear me say it. No one to overhear if I share. `` It's Matt.'' I say, trying to give her a smile back. At best I think I manage a baring of the teeth. 
 
 `` Mine's Sarah.'' She replies. `` Can I go and see my Mommy and Daddy? I ca n't sleep too well in my own room.'' She gestures to the door behind me, where her mother and father's corpses lie. 
 
 `` It's best if you do n't.'' I say. `` They left strict instructions not to be disturbed until morning time. In fact, I think it's time you went back to bed. It's a Wednesday tomorrow, you do n't want to be late up for school.'' 
 
 Sarah's eyes flit between her parent's room and my gaze. She looks confused, she looks like she does n't understand. Then she yawns and nods her head. 
 
 `` I think you're right.'' She says, and then turns around. She begins to pad down the corridor, back to her own room I'm guessing. 
 
 `` It's nice meeting you, Matt.'' She tosses over her shoulder, in between yawns. 
 
 No, I thought, It is n't. 
 
 
 
 
 

