In the past 3 days, this was Mason's third failed suicide attempt. As he was sitting in his bed the waves of frustration continued to wash over him, he just couldn't bring himself to finish the task. His injured hand wrapped with an old dirty makeshift rag had begun to throb again, reminding him of his most recent attempt. Half an hour ago, two inches away from the bathroom mirror with a knife across his neck, hoping, just hoping that he had enough courage to slit his throat.
"Leave me alone." he whispered to the mirror. "Please, I-I can't do it."
He stared at himself in the mirror, his face full of sweat, his pupils dilating, he looked like another one of those drug addicts in this homeless shelter.
"I didn't know, I couldn't have done anything. Anything at all." he reasoned with the man in the mirror. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry."
He had grown a stubble for the first time in his life, his short and maintained hair had grown untidy and long, covering parts of his eyes. Through the strands of hair he could still see a man in the mirror, towards the corner of the room. The man had a smile on his face and a small hole though his neck. Tears had begun to well up in his eyes and soon after, the sadness turned into anger.
"LEAVE ME ALONE!" Mason yelled as he punched the glass, shattering it into a million pieces. "I'm tired of seeing your face EVERYWHERE, GET OUT OF MY HEAD!" he screamed as the shards hit the floor, covered in his blood. He stood there for what seemed like an eternity, the blood dripping from his hand onto the floor, glass shards still stuck in his knuckles.
As he was lost in thought someone had approached his bed,
"Are you Mason Jackson?" the man asked.
Mason turned around quickly, his startled eyes met the man's and he was shocked to see a well dressed person in such a place. The man was clearly in his 40's but he was in great physical condition and his apparent wealth made him seem much younger, like a man in his prime. The man was well groomed and Mason could smell the expensive cologne wafting from him. The cleanliness upset Mason, it reminded him of his own past before the incident, before everything went to hell.
"What do you want?" Mason replied.
"Nice to meet you Mason." The man looked unfazed by Mason's rude reply and kept talking with a smile on his face. "My name is Jamie, and I have a job for you."
"I'm not interested, have a great day."
Mason turned around and started organizing his backpack in an attempt to encourage the man to leave. He could definitely use the extra money, but something about this guy just seemed fishy to Mason. It didn't make sense to him specifically for an occupation rather than just leaving a notice at the shelter counter.
𝘋𝘰𝘦𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘮𝘺 𝘱𝘢𝘴𝘵?
"5 million dollars. By next month." he said in an attempt to catch Mason's interest.
"I don't care if it's 100 million, not interested. Go away."
Mason did not care about the money at all. He was living a comfortable life in Chelsea working for the MI6. But after that mission, there was no way he would ever be left alone in such an easy life.
"Mason, I know about your past and I need someone with your skillset. What do you want? Fame? My boss can get you whatever you want. You want women? Cars? Property? Whatever wish you have I can get you it, just hear me out." The man sounded frantic, as if he had something very dear to him on the line as well.
Mason got up and turned to face the man. He was getting tired of this pointless conversation and decided to put an end to it.
"Listen to me...Jamie. I'm sure you and your rich ass boss can convince most people to work as their slave or whatever the hell you all do. But unless your boss can bring people back from the dead, I'm not interested. Now get out of my face, this is the last time I'm going to say it."
To Mason's surprise, Jamie did not even flinch. He stayed right where he was standing with the same smile plastered on his face. He could tell from his eyes that he wasn't scared at all.
"This dead person probably has loved ones, I can find them and make sure they are taken care of for the rest of their life. After all I'm sure that's what they would have wanted."
Mason stood there quietly thinking about what Jamie had just said. Mason was unsure how much of his past Jamie was actually aware of, but this comment actually got Mason very interested. He knew this might be a horrible idea but after a long time he might have found a solution.
𝘔𝘢𝘺𝘣𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘐 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘵𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘮𝘺 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘴, Mason thought to himself, 𝘊𝘦𝘥𝘳𝘪𝘤, 𝘐'𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘧𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘺 𝘴𝘰 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦, 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘺 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥.
"What do I have to do?" Mason asked, steeling his resolve and preparing for the next mission.
"I'll tell you on your way out, we have to meet another kid outside this shelter. I'll fill in both of you at the same time." Jamie explained as they walked towards the exit.
When they stepped outside, he could see the another one of the shelter habitants there. Mason had seen him around the homeless shelter as well. They had called him snowman because of his horrible cocaine addiction. Even from this distance, Mason could see the scratch marks on his neck and arms, he could see the unique dirtiness of an addict.
"Listen, since you wanted to know what you have to do" Jamie told Mason as they got closer to the druggie, "One of your tasks is to kill this man."