I made a deal with hell, and now I’m paying for it with my life. Or what’s left of it. It started with my ex-wife. Let’s call her the cheating woman, because that’s all she ever was to me in the end.
She seduced me, married me, gave me two kids, and then flipped a switch. Our love turned into a one-sided endurance test. She went out at night, came home later and later, sometimes not until sunrise. She’d leave a pot of stew in the fridge to feed me and the kids for a week while she was out doing God knows what.
I started cooking proper meals just so my children could eat better. When I tried to talk about it, she shut me down. “I’m entitled to a little fun. You’re away all day.
I have nothing to apologize for. ”
Her spending spiraled out of control. The intimacy that brought us together vanished, leaving me with nothing but solitude and frustration. And then, one night, she came home with dinner on the table—my favorite meal.
She sat next to me on the couch, trying to sound loving and reassuring. Her life was boring. She needed a little excitement. He would be no threat to me.
I was still her number one. She still loved only me. It would just be a little excitement while I was at work. I put my foot down.
The loving discussion escalated into threats. “I’m doing it, and there’s nothing you can do about it. If you want a divorce, I’ll take everything you have and everything you’ll ever have. You’ll lose the kids—the courts always give custody to the mother.
I’ll get the house, and you’ll pay for it. Alimony and child support. So don’t be stupid. Just go along with it.
”
I saw a divorce lawyer. He confirmed everything. We lived in a no-fault state, so even evidence of her adultery wouldn’t matter much. She’d get the kids, and I’d pay for her to raise them.
I couldn’t let that happen. She was toxic. She treated my children no better than she treated me. If left to her own devices, she’d poison their gentle souls and ruin their lives forever.
My back was against the wall. And then I found her in our bed with another man. He was younger than me and bigger in every way. “Oh, get out.
Wait downstairs. I’ll be along soon enough,” she screamed. I did nothing. I packed a bag and left.
A few days later, I called a friend, Jack. He’d been married to a horrible woman, and then one day, his wife just up and left. A year later, he got an uncontested divorce. I figured he could help me.
We met for a beer in a quiet bar. “What I tell you stays between us. You never tell a living soul. Do you understand me?
”
I nodded. He leaned in. “Swear. ”
“I swear.
”
His voice dropped. “My wife didn’t just disappear. I made her disappear. ”
It took a minute to sink in.
“Are you telling me you killed her? ”
He shook his head. “No. I had her killed.
”
I couldn’t help it. I admired this man. “How? ”
He gave me a long, serious look.
“Are you sure you want to know? Once you hear this, there’s no turning back. It’s a contract. Once you commit, you have to see it through.
”
“I have nothing to lose. ”
“That’s what everyone thinks, until they realize just how much they actually do have to lose. ”
I steeled myself. “Tell me.
”
He explained it. You place an ad in the personal section of the LA Times: “Sad man seeking relief from grief. ” You leave a PO box. Then you wait.
One day, someone approaches you. You exchange coded words. You go for a walk. That’s when you decide: strike a contract or walk away.
“What’s the contract? ”
“Your wife will be taken care of. Either she dies or she disappears. And when it happens, it’ll look like an accident.
”
“How do I pay for it? ”
He gave a small smirk. “That part’s easy. A little money—and your soul.
”
I scoffed. He shook his head. “He’s not the devil, but he might as as well be. You’ll be told to buy something.
An antique, a painting, maybe even a boat. You’ll pay way too much for it. Then, about a year later, they come back for the second half of your debt. ”
“What do you mean?
”
His voice was steady, almost too calm. “They’ll have another job. Maybe it’s a cheating wife, maybe an abusive husband. Either way, someone needs to die.
And that’s when you pay them back. You’re the one who pulls the trigger. The only reason you get your wife taken care of is because someone else before you agreed to do the same. ”
I sat there, my mind spinning.
This wasn’t a one-time thing. This was forever. The only way out of my nightmare was to embrace something even darker. “I need to think about this.
”
His stare hardened. “Yes, you do. But understand me. This is a contract.
There’s no changing your mind. If you back out, you become a liability. And they don’t accept liabilities. ”
We never spoke of it again.
As he walked away, I noticed the missing finger on his left hand. He’d said he lost it to a lawn mower blade, about a year after his wife disappeared. I was sober after that. The next day, I interrupted the cheating woman with her lover again.
She yelled at me. He smirked. I tasered him. That shut her up.
I dragged his naked body by his heels down the stairs, out the front door, and onto the lawn, his head bouncing on every step. He pressed assault charges. She testified against me. I did 90 days in county lockup.
When I got out, I was served with divorce papers. It went down exactly as she predicted. I lived in a one-room efficiency apartment while paying the mortgage on a three-bedroom home, plus child support and alimony. I was kept away from my kids because I was deemed violent and dangerous.
She had kept her promise. She took it all. Worst of all, I was deathly afraid of how my children would grow up under her example. For their sake, I had to act.
I took out the advertisement: “Sad man seeking relief from grief. ” I left a PO box. Time passed. Then one day, as I ate my lunch in the park, a man walked up behind me.
“Are you? ”
“Yes. ”
“Are you looking for relief from grief? ”
“Yes.
”
He invited me to take a walk. I studied him. “Are you a cop? ”
“No.
”
“Aren’t you going to ask me the same thing? ”
He didn’t flinch. “No. We’ve done our homework.
We know exactly who you are and what your problem is. ”
“Do you know who told me how to find you? ”
He gave a small smirk. “No, but we have a pretty good idea.
It doesn’t matter either way. ”
“Is he in trouble? ”
His expression darkened. “No.
Word of mouth is how our business operates. But understand this—if the wrong word reaches the wrong person, that creates a problem. And when we have a problem, we clean it up fast. ”
A chill ran down my spine.
He meant every word. He explained my part. In about a month, an antique tea table would come up for auction. It was a worthless reproduction, but I would fall in love with it.
There would be other bidders, but I would win. The price would climb. I would pay $220,000. “That’s it?
”
“You were told there are two installments, right? ”
I swallowed. “Yeah. ”
“You keep your PO box.
In about a year, you’ll receive an envelope with your instructions. You’ll be expected to complete the contract. ”
“And if I don’t? ”
“All contracts must be fulfilled.
If you don’t do it, we will. But that also means tying up loose ends. Anyone who fails to complete their part becomes a loose end. ”
“Can I at least be sure the second target deserves it?
”
He nodded slightly. “We don’t take contracts for convenience, profit, or petty revenge. Our founders believed in making the world a better place. We still follow that standard.
But make no mistake—you won’t have a choice once you say yes. Right now is your last chance to walk away. ”
My throat was dry. “How do I make the contract official?
”
“You buy the table. That’s it. ”
I thought about my ex-wife, truly evil, and God only knows what she was doing to my kids. “It’s my ex-wife.
She’s poisoning my children. ”
He gave me a knowing look. “Yes, we know. We do our homework.
”
I sat there, staring at nothing. When I finally looked up, he was gone. The auction was still two weeks away when I got a call from my kids. They were in my son’s room, both on the call.
“Daddy, Mommy has a strange man in her bedroom, and we’re scared. He’s mean. He told Cindy he can’t wait for her to grow up. What does he mean, Daddy?
”
I was livid. I wanted to kill the cheating woman and anyone with her. I told them to lock their bedroom door and called my brother. I couldn’t go over there or I’d get arrested, but he could.
He knocked on the door until the cheating woman finally answered. She told him to bug off. He never saw or heard the guy, so he couldn’t testify. A man under that kind of pressure makes bad decisions.
I bought the table. God help me, I bought the damn table. My fate was sealed. Six weeks later, I got a knock on my front door.
Two uniformed cops. “Can you account for your activities for the past six hours? ”
“I was at work until almost six, went to the food store, and I’ve been sitting here since. Why?
”
“It’s your ex-wife. Someone broke into her house tonight. We regret to inform you that she is dead. ”
I was stunned.
I sat down on the couch and forgot they were there. Then I broke down and cried. Not tears of joy. I didn’t laugh.
I didn’t celebrate. She was an evil, cheating woman, but I felt a weight on my shoulders I had never felt before. “What about my kids? Are they all right?
”
“Yes, sir. They were upstairs doing their homework. Your daughter came downstairs and found her mother. She’s pretty shaken up.
”
“I’ve got to go to her. But there’s a protection order—you have to help me. ”
“Your brother and sister are with them now. ”
“So you knew I was here the whole time, but you still had to give me a hard time?
”
“It’s our job, sir. ”
I called my brother. “Get your back over here. You really think we’re going to enforce that protection order?
Your kids are asking for you. ”
I drove like a maniac. My kids were shaken up, but they were okay. It was, in some ways, the worst and the best night of my life.
My lawyer filed papers. Child services interviewed my kids. The judge lifted the protection order. I had my kids back.
I cleaned up the house, tore up the carpets, painted the walls, and did everything I could to make it a different house than the one where their mother was killed. I got them therapy. My brother and sister wanted me to go too, and for a time I did. But I could never tell the therapist what was really bothering me.
What was bothering me was the calendar. Week by week, month by month, I knew what was coming. I went to the PO box and checked my mail. Week after week, it was empty.
I started telling myself they’d forgotten me. But I knew better. About a year after my ex-wife died, there was a large manila envelope in my box with no return address. I opened it in my car and read my assignment.
They said the target beat his first wife and had a fondness for children. His second wife had two kids. Maybe it was true, maybe it wasn’t. They knew exactly what to tell me.
They included his routine, his habits, pictures, where he worked, where he drank, even the roads he drove. They gave me a month to get it done. I studied it. I planned.
I tried to run him down one night when he came out of a bar, but I swerved at the last moment. I thought about buying a gun, but I couldn’t do it. I lay awake at night looking for a solution. There was none.
I just didn’t have it in me. I couldn’t eliminate a man I didn’t know. With that revelation, my fate was sealed. These people were not people you could disappoint.
I knew I had only one choice. I made an appointment with a lawyer and wrote out a will. In the event of my death, I wanted my children to go with my brother and his wife. They are good people who have always wanted children.
About two months after I got the package, I read in the paper that a man had been found in an alley, beaten, robbed, and killed. It was brutal. Someone worked out their anger on him. I recognized the name.
I knew what was coming. I worried about my kids and put double locks on the windows and doors. I knew I couldn’t hide for long. So I did the only thing I could do for my kids.
I started eating my lunch in the park. I figured I couldn’t stop them, but I could control where it happened. That was my friend’s story. Or most of it, anyway.
I guess it falls to me to finish his sad little tale. You see, I’m Jack. It was a Tuesday, about a month after that guy got killed in the alley. I walked up to my friend as he ate his lunch alone in the park.
I sat down beside him on the bench. “I heard your wife died. ”
He didn’t look at me. “Yeah.
”
“Good. The kids are better off. ”
His gaze stayed fixed on the ground. “Yeah.
”
Frustration bubbled up inside me. “Damn it. I told you. I told you the contract was binding.
”
He finally spoke, his voice hollow. “I know. I thought I could do it. But I couldn’t.
”
He turned to look at me, tears in his eyes. He seemed to be staring at the missing finger on my left hand. I knew what he was thinking. Yes, I had hesitated once.
Losing my finger was the encouragement I had needed back then. He looked away, studying the autumn leaves. “It’s okay. I know the price I have to pay.
I’m at peace with it. At least my kids are safe and happy. I didn’t get you into any trouble, did I? ”
“Not really.
”
I put my hand on his shoulder for an instant. I felt my soul burn to ash. I knew my eternal fate was sealed.
I put the barrel of the gun behind his left ear, and with one hard, cold tap, all that he knew was gone.
