Outrunning the Past

I was sitting on a park bench waiting for my next client who was running late when a girl in her early teens approached my bench. She had some scrape marks on her face and hands, and she was also missing a shoe.

“What happened? Did someone hurt you?” I asked.

“My foster father. He beats me every day; I couldn’t take it anymore.”

The girl, who introduced herself as Leila, said that she had complained to the police several times, but they never listened to her because of the status her foster parents held. Her foster mother didn’t care about her either. I felt my stomach twist inside. Having lost my parents to a contract killer, I was in and out of foster homes until I ran away at the age of sixteen and found myself in my current career.

Leila asked if I could take her in, but I declined immediately. My work as a contract killer allowed me no room to be a mother. Instead, I saved my number on her phone and asked her to give me a ring if she ever needed my help. I usually had two rules: never kill anyone outside a client request, and never target anyone with children. However, I was willing to make an exception in this case.

A week passed, and Leila called me asking for help, saying her foster father beat her badly again—and that he was threatening to get rid of her permanently. I rushed to her address immediately and snuck into the garden. She told me beforehand which window to reach; by the time I approached it, I heard her foster father yelling “No, please!” before four gunshots were fired. I was about to break into the house when, to my surprise, I saw Leila rushing downstairs with a revolver in her hand. I took it away from her and we fled the scene together right after.

Leila lived with me from that point on. I taught her everything I knew to help her defend herself, both in armed and unarmed combat. After she turned sixteen, I started training her in shooting. Leila was an exceptional shot in no time, easily shooting one bullseye after another. Her skills far surpassed mine. Leila slowly opened up to me about her past. I was surprised to hear that it was similar to mine: her parents were also killed by a contract killer when she was just eight years old.

Leila said she questioned whether she could ever forgive the person who took her parents from her. I told her it was up to her. Being a contract killer, I could not think of anything proper to say. Would anything have been good enough? I became the very thing that killed my parents, and even though I stuck to a personal code, it still didn’t change the fact that my actions had severe consequences.

“I think I’ll become a contract killer, just like you.”

“There’s no turning back if you walk this path. There are just some things you can’t outrun.”

“Hmm…” Leila looked away and said nothing further.

When Leila’s birthday arrived the following year, I bought her a handgun. That’s when things took a dark turn: the moment she opened her present, tears began to brim her eyes. She grabbed the weapon and pointed it at me. My heart began to race—I stepped away from her with my hands raised.

“Leila, what are you doing?”

“Avenging my parents.” Her hands began to tremble as tears started to stream down her cheeks. “I’ve been waiting years for this, but now that the opportunity is in my gasp…”

“How is this possible? You know I never—”

“You were misinformed!” Leila gripped the gun tighter. “I know my parents weren’t saints, but you still took them from me. I can’t consider ‘what ifs’.”

She grabbed a photo from her trouser pocket and showed it to me. They were undoubtedly my targets from ten years ago. My head began to spin as a wave of thoughts flooded my mind. How could this have happened? My code… It was too late; my past had finally caught up to me. The next thing I knew, my abdomen was burning. Leila shot me twice and fled the scene. I saw her silhouette disappear through the back entrance as my vision faded to black.

I woke up hours later at the hospital. I couldn’t believe that I was alive. Leila was too good of a shot; she couldn’t have missed. I wondered whether our paths would cross again another day. If they would, I knew I wouldn’t be as lucky again. But it wasn’t the end of the line for me yet, so I snuck out of the hospital that same night and drove off to another city.