Identity

One killer. One question: "What makes you special?" Can't answer the question and he puts a bullet in your head.

“Wake up scum.” A man’s voice shouted in my ear. Pain exploded in my cheek as he slapped it. “Wake up!”

I opened my eyes.

And I wished I hadn’t.

I was in a basement; concrete floor, wooden walls, and a bare bulb hanging from the ceiling. And a man in a black leather jacket, jeans, and a black ski mask that left only his mouth and eyes visible. And a black pistol in his gloved right hand.

My hands were behind my back, taped together. I sat on a wooden chair, and a clear shower curtain was underneath it. My ankles were taped to the chair legs, but I wasn’t gagged.

I squeezed my eyes shut. “Look at me, wretch!” Another flash of pain hit my cheek. I reluctantly opened my eyes. “Do you know why you’re here?”

I spit in his face.

He smirked and wiped it off the mask with his sleeve. “You’ve got spunk. I’ll give you that much. At least some fight left in you. Feel free to scream if you want. No one can hear you. The last girl spent ten minutes screaming before she would talk to me. I have a feeling you’ll be different. Do you know why you’re here?”

Tears streamed down my cheeks, this psycho was going to kill me. “Why?” I finally said.

“I want to ask you the same question. Why? Why are you here? Why are you sucking up oxygen and using up food? What makes you deserving of the honor of taking up space on planet earth? Huh? What gives you that kind of worth?”

I didn’t answer him. I wouldn’t give that satisfaction of playing his game.

“Right now you’re asking yourself a question.” The killer had been squatting at eye-level; he now straightened and started pacing, hand behind his back like a professor giving a lesson. “You’re asking why I’m playing these games. And why I chose you. And how much do I know about you?”

She wasn’t about to disagree with him, so she kept quiet.

“I know all about you. Your name is Emily Amanda Wilson. You live at 467 Abbott Road. You have a German shepherd named Max. You work at a Knight’s Café as a waitress. Your boyfriend’s name is Derik N. Carter, he’s an engineer. You met him on eHarmony.”

My eyes grew wider; true, most of the information he could find just on her Facebook profile, but how did he know about meeting Derik on the dating website? It doesn’t matter what he knows. The only thing that matters is getting out of here alive.

“Truth be told Emily, I know your life better than you do. I know you aren’t special. You’re just a waste of space, isn’t that what you said in your journal two weeks ago?”

He read my journal? What kind of a stalker/psycho is this guy?!

“I’ve already decided to kill you Emily. But I decided to be merciful. I’ll give you one chance and one chance only. You have to convince me that you aren’t just another waste of space. So go ahead and tell me. What makes you special?”

My mind buzzed. I didn’t know? What answer was this demented lunatic looking for? I sat there in silence for long minute, racking my mind for an answer.

“Can’t think of anything either?”

“No, I can. Give me a minute, please!”

The killer licked his lips and stared off into space.

“Ok…ok. I’m special because…I help people.”

The psycho looked me in the eyes as if you say, “Was that the best you could do?” He stared for a minute before speaking. “You help people? Seriously? When was the last time you helped someone? And it wasn’t for your own gain. The last time I saw you ‘help’ someone, it was helping Derik. And your motive was to have him like you more. That was a pathetic attempt. You don’t love anyone but yourself. Try again.”

His statement gave me an idea, “But people love me. I love and am loved. Look at Derik for example.”

“Oh, yes, wonderful Derik.” He walked over to a small table where a small folder rested. “Did you know this about your Derik? He didn’t love you, scum.” He took a sheet of paper out, it was a picture of Derik…kissing another woman. “He didn’t love you.”

Tears welled up in my eyes again. This was impossible. No way. That can’t be real, could it? That’s probably an old picture, one of his old girlfriends. Or it was photo-shopped. It can’t be real. It can’t.

“Your answers are rather pathetic, Emily. I shouldn’t have expected anything more. You could say beauty is one thing you have. But even that is worthless. You’ll get older. You could get injured. You could get fat. Then your beauty is gone. It’s completely worthless. You could say your brains give you worth, get a disease and they’re gone. You have no identity. You have no worth. And you can’t even tell me otherwise.”

I watched him raise the gun. I felt so worthless.

I had no purpose in life. This killer was right, I had no identity. Everyone tries to belong in one way or another, does something that gets them acclaim, but who are we kidding? We can’t even convince ourselves. I have no purpose in life, I’m just an insignificant blip on the screen that does nothing and vanishes. As twisted and demented as this psycho was…he was also right. I’ve never been significant in anything that I’ve done. And even if I was, it wouldn’t mean anything.

Beauty, brain, brawn; what did any of that matter in the long run? Any part of my identity shattered like glass. I was no one and I have nothing to live for, because life is an exercise in futility.

My only purpose was to be born and die. My life is meaningless, so why bother living it? That was his philosophy. And now it was mine. Now he would do me a favor by killing me.

I stared down the barrel. I heard the shot, and then saw everything go white. And I ceased to exist.

 

He stared at the latest subject. The young woman known as Emily Wilson, who lived a life trying to persuade herself that she was worth something.

Just like everyone else on the planet. From the highest CEO to the lowest beggar, everyone was worthless. Why else would so many Hollywood stars commit suicide every year? They realized the truth; they were worthless, even though they had it all that many commoners thought would bring importance: wealth, fame, and good looks. No one had any worth.

It was his job to rid the world of these pretenders.

Truly, no one had any worth whatsoever. Living made no sense. He needed to show them the light and make them see that they were truly better off dead than alive. He looked at his watch. Almost midnight.

He was about to show the light to another young pupil, who needed a lesson on reality. Another young woman by the name of Rebecca James.

 

Rebecca James sat in the chair that Emily had occupied before he disposed of her body.

He knelt down to her level. He wanted to the first thing she saw when she woke up. “Wake up!” He slapped her cheek. “Come on, open your eyes.”

Her eyes fluttered open. She looked around the room. “Where…where am I?” she asked, anxiety lining her voice.

He always enjoyed seeing the first reaction; typically they would look around and finally settle their eyes on him. She wasn’t any different. “There’s a more important question, like why are you here?”

She strained slightly against the tape, but it was no use. “I don’t know.” She was afraid. He could smell her fear, and it excited him.

“I’ll cut right to the chase Rebecca,” She stiffened when he said her name. “I want you to tell me what makes you special.”

She looked down. Deep in thought. She would sit there for a minute and try to think of something that made her special.

But she didn’t. “The reason I’m special is because of love. But not ordinary love. God’s love. He sent his son to die for me. He made me free from my sin. He gave me worth by wanting me and by choosing me to be his bride.”

He’d known that she was a Christian. She faithfully attended church every week. But he wasn’t prepared for this answer. He didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t religious, but he believed in God. He finally was able to stammer “But…you’ve sinned. You’ve broken his law. You are unworthy. You are worthless.”

“I know I’ve sinned. But he forgave me. He paid for me with his life. That’s what gives me worth.”

That stalled him. He had no answer for that. If the creator of the universe paid for this woman with blood, that gave her infinite value. He couldn’t argue with her!

The gun slipped from his fingers. This was one battle he’d lost. He finally found someone who had value.

He untapped her hands and strode away.