A Skawesome Life

askwildcard:

Transcript :

There’s one instance I can remember where I started to regret…a lot of things.

I had a job lined up right around Hearth’s Warming. It was an important client, somepony who had come to us before, and always supplied the proper monetary incentive, for both expenses and the final payroll.

I took it upon myself to do this hit personally.

You may find this amusing but, when the holidays get near I often allow clemency for most of my Saddles. Some of them still have families and loved ones, in and out of the organization , whom they want to spend intimate time with. I try not to stand in the way of that, job or not.

It’s one of reasons I took this gig on personally. The other, that I wanted the job done right.

It was a simple request. This upper class patron wanted a message sent to his competition, a proprietor of a similar business. Go in ; deep six his wife; leave no evidence aside from carnage.

Sneaking into the house wasn’t difficult. Nopony locks their doors much any more, especially around Hearth’s Warming, when everypony is feeling so safe and…generous.

The mare was occupied in the kitchen, hindquarters to the living room awning as she fussed with some dish or another.  She never saw it coming. A hoof-blade across the throat, and the job was finished. I started to leave right after — and bumped into ‘evidence’ that I wasn’t expecting.

Two foals, a boy and a girl, staring right at their mother’s lifeless body with expressions that still scathe me to the very soul, this day.

I saw them…saw them look from the body, to me. Horrified. Shocked. Scarred for life. For them, Hearth’s Warming was now no longer a time of joy and merriment. It was a cruel reminder of just how despicable the world really was. The bawling that followed felt like a banshee’s scream in my head, and , slipping on what blood was across the floor, I stumbled out into the cold at a breakneck speed.

I’d like to say the winter chill is what stung the corners of my eyes, but I’d be lying.

I’m glad the attire I wore concealed my face. If those foals ever recognized me…

There wasn’t much evidence to go on. When the murder was reported, the guards couldn’t do much.

When the obituary came out , I sent an anonymous gift to the family. Condolences, money, gifts for the.. children.

I sometimes forget that , what we do, affects more than just our wallets. We separate families, friends — destroy fragile relationships and wreak chaos if the money is good.

And until that day, I had forgotten what guilt felt like. Well. Not any more.

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[ BG Music is (c) Rockstar and Billy Elm / Woody Jackson. ]

m-m-manly tears…

(Source: askwildcard)