Old Habits Die Hard.

• Ayesha Fanham, Grade 8
• Short Story
• 2016

My fingers are twitching. The need to do it is driving me crazy. It feels like it's been forever since the last time. So I start. I start driving down the barely lit road, the ground glistening with the reflection of raindrops. Peering around every corner, every turn, I analyse. To pick one. My next victim. The rain is falling harder and heavier now — there is no chance anyone would be out at this time. Just then I spot a man by the old factory, standing by himself with his black hood hanging over his head, his jacket seeming to drape all the way to the ground. I pull up beside him,
'Need a lift?'
'Sure, thank you so much.'
He shoves his bike into my boot and shifts into the front seat.
'Thanks again, I'm Garrett,' he says.
'It's no problem at all, nice to meet you, my name is Daniel,' I reply, making sure I sound casual and comfortable.
As we drive, we both glance at each other for a while not knowing what to say. I've forgotten how good I was at this — I've forgotten my old techniques.
'So, where are you heading?' I ask, intending to eventually find out more about him.
'Uhhh... Just drop me at the end of this road,' he replies, almost sounding confused.
Does he not know where he's going? Maybe he doesn't have a home. Well if that's the case, it makes my job a lot easier. I'm not hurting anyone by what I'm about to do to him. He has no one to even care about his existence. The windscreen wipers are angrily pushing rain ahead of me. I can see only the swishing of water and the yellow glows of a few headlights.
'So where are you from?' I ask, again trying to get something out of him.
'Oh you know, just around.'
That's it! Okay, he is definitely homeless. Did he not realise what I meant or did he just dodge the question because he is embarrassed he doesn't know? This road seems to be endless, but then again that's to my advantage because I still don't have an exact plan.
'So Garrett, do you work at that factory? Not many people I know work there,' I ask curiously.
'Um... It was the only job I was accepted for,' he says.
'Well then,' I start as I pull up against the curb. 'I hope we meet again soon...'
As he moves to open the door, I pull out my gun and point it to his head,
'...in hell,' I say, smirking.
At that second, Garrett pulls off his hood, revealing a mohawk surrounded by tattoos, grabs a gun from his pocket and points it to my head.
'You look surprised, I'm sorry not what you expected?' he says, grinning, flashing me his pale yellow, crooked teeth. I stare, confused and in shock. This doesn't change what I came to do, I think, as two synchronised shots go off.