Entry #631964, added on 01-25-09 @ 8:44 pm EST Entry Access Restriction: None.
| Captured (2007) | Entry #631964 |
(male) I was a political killer, which means I assassinated leaders in the realm of the political. Like most in the business, however, my luck ran out. They caught me off guard, from behind and I never really saw them coming. I felt a sudden, sharp pain in the back of my head, then everything went black.
I awoke, a prisoner, in a very small cell with clear walls. All the cells were that way, lacking in privacy. Most of the prisoners (still alive) were women. It made me feel a bit out of place but at the same time I sort of understood their logic. Suddenly, the door to my cell opened, it looked exactly like the other walls on the inside.
A man stood blocking the entrance, one I had never seen before. It was some nameless henchman with a standard militant rifle but more important was the paper he was holding.
In rough English the henchman stated matter-of-factly, "If it is not number eleven." This was followed by an attempted laugh, and I say attempted because for being the one holding the weapon, there was a slight hint of fear in his voice.
It was the list (a list of the top assassinators, currently). "Number eleven?" I replied without even thinking, which was something I all too often did, action without thought. "That's crazy! I shouldn't be in the top twelve." I stopped for a second, realizing my talking was going to get me killed.
However, there was a slight pause, then the henchman wrote something on the list. Before leaving he grunted, "fifteen."
Somehow, without punishment, I had talked my way farther on the list, moving back the date of my death, if only by a little.
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