by Michael Louis Ruggiero
***Editor's Note: Adult language and situations in the tale that follows***
"So when I take this, I'll be able to kill him?" asks the hooded man.
I know why he doesn't show his face. Most of the men I sell to don't. Too ashamed or too scared. Like I care who they are. I know what they're going to do. I know who they really are.
"You'll have about twenty-four hours before the virus wears off," I tell him. "If you haven't done the deed by then, you lost your chance. The virus won't work a second time."
"Oh, I'll do it. That bastard will finally get what he had coming to him."
They always act so certain. That they have it in them. Proving it to me. To themselves.