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Spadina Literary Review  —  edition 9 page 16


the follower

A Certain Demise

by Steve Hemingsworth

I waited for him outside, outside his house as he was leaving. He was no longer in his safe zone. He was mine. The decision had been made. I had to take his life to continue mine. I didn’t want to, but as they say, you have to bleed for your god and your country if you want to get somewhere. I ask only that people understand why I am doing this. The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few. That was the slogan running through my head as I planned my attack.

It was late in the night, after nine or so. I didn’t even care to check what time it was. I had been sitting in my car for hours. He came out and sat in his luxury car. Guys like him can afford it with the money they make off people like me. I don’t know why I chose to kill this particular person, but he seemed like the right person. You know the term, the end justifies the means, that’s what I was thinking. Sure my actions were wrong in a way, and this guy had done me no harm, but he was in the right place at the right time. That’s all I can say.

He started his car and drove off. I followed close behind and paid attention to his every manoeuvre. He was driving up Fifth Avenue. The devil, he was going to a strip club, gunna get some tonight. He drove not too fast, he made sure he was keeping his speed down. Maybe he was pretty well known, so he didn’t want to draw attention.

All I could think about was how I was I going to do this. I couldn’t just kill the guy in public and walk away. No, it had to be done properly. Plus I needed to take the body away too. We came to a stop at some lights, a gas station, and he pulled in. He went into the kiosk and got the keys. So he had to take a piss. My luck was getting better by the minute.

I got out and followed him. The bathroom was a portable. Perfect. It was dark too, because it was in the back. He made his way towards it. I kept my distance not too far from him. I looked around. I walked light, making sure my shoes didn’t hit the surface too hard. Across the street was Eden Place, the strip club. He made it to the portable. I looked around. No one there. As he opened the door I ran up behind and jabbed the knife quick into his neck. He fell down fast, not fighting back or anything, and a fountain of blood shot straight out from his neck. The wound was deep and hollow, blood pumped out as his life came to an end. I waited for his body to stop squirming.

I lifted him up and dragged him towards the car. I put him in the trunk and closed it. As a precaution, I took the washroom key back to the gas station, claiming the guy left and dropped it. The attendant thanked me. What a fool!