It was a night like any other.

That is to say, full of violence and grief, and memories of a past.

A past before any of us knew the darker parts of the life.

A past before we could ever know.

We were making money, taking risks, living high and lavish.

It all stopped being fun and games when we were asked- no, ordered- to kill ten men, and make it look like an accident to most, but "let the right people know", whatever that meant.

We were all 18-19, none of us knew death. We were given this warped and twisted image of it from the news, comics, and our own parents.

Now, I know death like an old friend. I know death like I know life.

Death has always been given this enigmatic visage, cold and mysterious.

In reality, death is the end. Simple as that.

There is no Heaven, there is no Hell.

You won't meet Jesus or burn forever.

You're dead.

If you know death like I do, you don't have to worry about where your soul goes.

It's gone by the time you snuff the life from your first victim.

The method was simple.

Plant three cars belonging to some rival family or something, and blow them up on main street. To send a message. Propagate fear.

Simple task now, but then even the concept shook all five of us to the bone.

Oh yeah, we were five, back then, weren't we?

Five kids who were debating whether to commit cold-blooded murder to save our own skins.

One of us backed out within the first discussion. I don't blame him, honestly. All of us wanted to.

I wouldn't say he was scared. We all were, but were were more scared of the higher-ups than this.

He was the bravest of us all.

Poor fucker died for it within a week.

Just wouldn't go back, no matter how much they kicked the shit out of him, threatened him, the works.

Killed him on the grounds of being an informant.

Now none of us wanted to be brave.

Weeks went by, and the day drew closer.

All of us, still racking our brains, trying to find a justification or something to take the weight off our shoulders.

And then the day arrived.

Three of us were at the rendezvous point.

The fourth never showed up.

In fact, none of us ever saw him again.

He might be alive.

He might not be.

Doesn't matter anymore.

I almost wanted to join him.

But, the memory of the last person to walk away from the job kept me frozen in my place.

So we all kept with it.

Planted the cars.

And when the time came, hidden in a building, with shaking hands, we let off the charges.

One car, two cars.

Nothing.

The third couldn't bring himself to do it.

Kept going on about how he'd go to Hell and burn forever, screaming, he fucked off before either of us even thought to.

They found him hanging in his room.

As soon as the two cars went off, a crowd formed. Panicked friends, family members, concerned an morbidly curious bystanders.

We stuck around out of morbid curiosity as well. Shock and horror for what we'd just done, obviously, but that was the main part. We gawked a bit too long, in hindsight, but we were never caught for it.

Even if we were, they ran the place back then.

I saw the picture in the newspaper the next day.

I read what they said about us.

I was conflicted.

On one hand, they were right. They were right about what we did. It was callous. It was murder. We were thugs, criminals, low life scum.

But at the same time, they didn't know what we had against us. They didn't know what we lost, or could've lost.

They didn't know we were just kids.

Scared kids, with a hell of a lot to lose.

Now it's just me, and the other one.

We stayed in the life. We had no choice but to now.

This was the first, but it was never gonna be the last, and we knew that. But what could we do?

Looking back, we should'a quit while we were ahead.

Ironically, we could've just not taken the job.

But being kids, we didn't think until we had to do it.

Regrets are a part of life.

Now, the other wants to put an end to this.

Wants to get out.

I told him I wished him well, but he'll never escape.

He pointed his finger at me and said

"You watch me."

Maybe he forgot what happened to the first.

Maybe he just doesn't care.

I really hope he does get out, but I know he won't.

I won't follow him.

I have nothing else left.

Come to think of it, I never did.