My addiction was gruesome and shameless. I couldn't remember where I had gone off the tracks it had been so long. There was no living without it, I had to have it. I thought of all the horrible things I'd done to get it, but this was the lowest I'd ever sunk. I might not come back from this one, but my craving told me it didn't matter. I rose from my bare mattress and looked at my skeletal frame in the mirror.  I used to be a handsome man, but that was another lifetime. I pulled on a shirt and headed for the door. I had agreed to meet him at a bar not far from where I lived, a shit hole. The perfect place for such seedy dealings. I showed up first so I ordered a drink and sat at the bar. It was 8:00. He arrived about halfway through drink #2 looking just as well to do as I expected he would. He slid me an envelope and left without saying anything at all. I shrugged and emptied my glass. Back at my apartment I rifled through the papers, the request was very specific. I couldn't believe I was doing this. I turned the key over in my hand, pressing it into my palm.

He lived a short train ride away. I stepped off and walked the rest of the way. Nice neighborhood, wealthy, I must have looked absurdly out of place strolling down Post Lane. I stuck to the shadows. It was almost 1AM.  I could see a giant aquarium through the veiled front window, soft blue light. There I was. I hadn't lost my resolve yet, testament to the monkey on my back. I moved cautiously up the walk running my finger along the teeth of the key. I thought Neighborhood Watch would be shining their lights at any second, but I got into the house without incident. I saw her immediately, draped across the lounge, she was stunning. Curled blonde hair fell in waves around her exquisitely pale face. One slender arm hung weakly off the cushion. There was a bottle of wine on the table with a scattering of pills around the tipped glass. I was uneasy with the situation. How would I collect if my work was already done? I pushed toward her and leaned in to check her breathing, shallow and staggered, but still there. I brought my hands to her throat, almost lovingly. Her skin was so soft and pliant to my fingers that I thought it might not be as awful as I'd imagined, I was wrong. I inhaled deeply and tightened the grip, my heart was slamming like an unbalanced washing machine. What the fuck was I doing? Her eyes fluttered open locking with my own. She parted her lips attempting to draw breath but only a small sound escaped her. She didn't fight to live, she just wilted beneath me, content to be done with it all.

I didn't recall my trip home, but there I was, and there was my payoff. I wanted to be conflicted, to feel human about the whole thing, but the ruby colored prize that was now in my hands destroyed any thoughts of regret. I had done it and I wasn't sorry.

Murder for a jar of red rum.