Right when the front door of my old apartment is closed, I can feel half my spirit is dead. Slowly, as my strength seems to leek out of my body, I kneel down before eventually laying my self on the floor, glueing right side of my face on the cool tiling floor. I bend my knees to touch my chest, positioning my self into fetus-like.
If only I could just cry, my chest may not be this painful. But, I can't cry. The pain is not any kind of pain that I have commonly received. It can not even be categorized as pain. It is just ... a huge emptiness. I feel so... hollow.
Jennifer doesn't want me to be in their lives. Because I'm an assassin. But.. I 'm also the father of her child, and she doesn't even give me a chance to be around them. Around my own child !
That's because she doesn't want your child to be a monster like you, a voice whispers inside my head.
I know, I murmur to my self. the moment I realized her reason, it was not like I didn't think to give up my self as an assassin. But..
I still vividly can remember how tormented my physical was before I finally made up my mind to be an assassin. What I told you about in chapter 2 was only a mere. The torment was unbearable. All of my muscles were stiff and sore. And while there was also a constant pricking pain all over my skin., my internal organs were sometimes felt like being squeezed, made me often got nausea and hard to focus my brain on things I worked on. Those were things I could describe at very least. There were many other pains that I couldn't even describe. My body gets quiver involuntarily every times I recalled it, including now. I am even dampen in cold sweat now.
While the memory of the torment is still conquering, another part of me, my feeling, my emotion, or anything you'd like to call, still regret my decision to let Jennifer just go.. once more slip away from my life.. worse, this time with my baby. My child. God Damned.. my own blood! How could I just let her go just because I was afraid being in pain again ? What kind of coward are you, Score ? It mocks me.
I close my eyes, hoping to ease the nausea and headache I'm having. I try to take sides neither to my brain nor my feeling. Of course it is futile. Thus, I am being tormented by both of them. Each time I slightly position my self more to my brain, my feeling abruptly brings how empty and meaningless my life in the future, living two lives all the time, just killing a person after another while going back to an empty home. Those imagination gives me pain. The same amount of pain I receive when I slightly change my mind to agree with my feeling. My brain immediately pours the torment pain back to my memory.
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I slowly open my eyes, condemn my self for still being alive. Those torments from both my brain and my feeling were finally knocked me unconscious. When I finally sit my body up, I can see how damp the surface of the floor that used to be covered by my body. It might be a mixture of cold sweat and tears. Yes, I finally was able to cry right before I lost my conscious.
Lifelessly, I put my clothes on. I didn't say it to be dress up, since I didn't do any dressing up. I even don't wash my face, nor combing my hair, even less tucking my t-shirt in my jeans. I really just don't care;
I leave my apartment, going to my basement just to realize that my ride is not there. It takes me more than a couple of seconds to remember what happened to my motor cycle last night. I sigh before walk back to ground floor and call for a taxi.
I wait for the taxi to arrive by sitting on the steps in front of the building. Joe, the front door man who is on duty this morning doesn't even dare to disturb me after his greeting was replied by a thin wry smile by me.
The road in front of the building is busy as usual. Some people, mostly women are standing on the school bus stop right across the street. It is almost 2PM now. Seems like they are moms or dads that waiting for the bus that bringing their children to arrive.
Not long, a yellow bus stops in front of the bus stop. After less than five minutes, the bus continues its journey, giving me a clear view of how happy the children meet their parents again after merely few hours departed by school hour. Some children are hugging their parents, while other happily swing their hands while leaving the bus stop. Couple of dads even piggyback their children home.
Those scenery of course brings a bitter taste in my mouth. I could be them. I murmur inwardly before sighing. Fortunately, my taxi arrives not long after. I stand up and slide inside the back seat before greeting the driver for politeness' sake. The driver confirms my apartment's address which I reply with nod. He then drives the taxi while I blankly throw my sight to the scenery of the window near me.
"Yes..," My attention is disturbed by the driver's voice. Turns out, he is receiving a call with his hands-free. "Hello, Baby.. Daddy is driving now, Baby. Yes.. Of course I remember your ballet recital, Baby. Daddy won't ever forget. Okay, see you soon, Sweet heart. 4 PM. Yes, 3rd floor of the studio. See.. I told you I remember it, Baby girl. Okay. Love you, Sweetie."
"Sorry, Sir.. It is my daughter. She would freak out if I didn't receive her call," the driver apologies to me.
"It's okay," I reply to him. I'm about to sink in another empty thought when he continues, "She is only six but she is more over protective than her mom was."
"Was ?" I notice how he mentioned his daughter's mother in past tense.
The driver nods. "Her mother is passed away. Car accident," he answers me.
"I'm sorry.."
He sighs. "It's okay. it was four years ago. Maybe it was the Heaven's favor on me. If she didn't die, maybe I was the one who died by O.D most likely," he says, ends it with a wry chuckle.
"Is that her ?" I ask, pointing at picture of a cute brown skin girl sticked on the dashboard of the car. Her face has a big radiant smile that curls up the lips of anyone who see it.
"Yes,. Isn't she beautiful ?" he asks with so much proud. I nod. It is not wise for an adult male to say anyone's daughter is beautiful, actually.
"She is my hero," he continues. I don't need to look on his face to see how adoring he is to his own daughter.
"How is that so ?"
"Her mom and I were actually separated. Her mom decided to leave me once she knew she was pregnant, because I was a junkie. She didn't want me to bring bad influence to our child" he starts his story. I squint to hear how similar this woman to Jen. Are all mother like that ? Protect their children from any danger like that ?
"When she died, I was still a junkie. Social service forbade me to take care of my daughter despite knowing that she had no other family. So, they brought her to foster home. She cried and begged me to take her with me. At that very moment, even when I was in high in.that time, I knew I didn't want to lose her for good. That thought brought additional strength to me to finally decided not to be a junkie anymore," the driver continues his story while driving the taxi carefully.
"I was a junkie since I was in my youth, you know. Decided to stop was not as easy as declaring it. I had fallen many times in the first couple of years. But I keep on trying to stop and finally I made it. I have been clean for this whole 2 years," he says in proud.
"Was it hard, Man ?" I ask. He chuckles.
"You definitely have never used one, Sir. It was very hard. Your brain keeps tantalize you to use it, and when you stubborn yourself not to, your brain orders your body to be in so much pain that you can not bear." He then rubs his finger to his daughter's photograph before continues, "But because of her.. I finally able to conquer it. I am the only person she has, so I need to be there for her, 100% be there. Every little thing she does, give me strength to defeat it more."
"Is it worthy ?"
He glares at me from the rear-view mirror. "She is more than worthy. She is my own flesh and blood, Man. She is the better version of me and her mom. so I definitely will make sure she grows and has the best live she could have. I would even sacrifice my life for her, even less stopping my bad habit. It was the best decision I have ever made."
I am stunned to his words.
"We arrive to your destination, Sir," the driver once more distracts my stupor.
"Can.. can you.. drive me to somewhere else ?" I ask.
"Sure.."
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"Scott !" Jennifer's voice calls me in surprised. I deliberately end my meditation and back to 'human' speed before opening my eyes. Jennifer is already standing in front of me, while I still sitting cross-;legged in front of her apartment door.
"What are you doing here ?" She asks. I immediately stand my body up.
"I quit being assassin," I say to her, looking at her eyes deeply, telling her how serious I am.
"What ?"
"I won't take order to kill people anymore. I won't kkill people unless they are endangers both of you. I won't be that monster anymore. Please.. just.."
"Scott.." Jennifer holds my shoulders/
"Just.. just let me be apart of the child's live. It is okay if you don't love me anymore. It's okay if you don't want to live with me, maybe you have already had other man.." I cut her.
"No, it's not like that. There.. there is no other man," she says. Her hands are moving to cup my face. "But you said.. it was so painful when you were not an assassin. You said.. it might kill you slowly... I.. I don't.."
I catch her hand. "I will bare the pain. I won't let it kill me that easy. I am going to fight to live if it tried to kill me. Hell.. even if I lose and die, I won't regret it as long as I have a chance to be around my child and watch them grow," I tell her, unconsciously shifting my hands to also cup her face.
"I will do anything to have a chance to be in my child's live. Please..."
Jennifer starts to sob.
"Jen.. please.. what else I should do .. ?"
"No... nothing.. nothing else.. Just.. the.. the.. assassin.." she says in between her cries.
"Then from now on, I am not an assassin. I promise you that," I declare my decision steadily to her. "Should I sign an agreement for that ?" I ask her solemnly, She chuckles while shaking her head umpteenth times.
"I love you, Scott Bennet," Jennifer says before throwing herself into my embrace.