Posted every Sunday! Each episode is stand alone, but reading each episode will reveal a larger story.
Diary of a Hit Woman
This is a weekly serial about a 30 something year old woman who is a therapist by day, avenging hit woman by night. She loves fashion, dogs, and food. She hates her ex husband, terrible people, and when she gets blood on herself. She is known as Karen Widowmaker. And she’s her own worst nightmare.
Episode 1
The Accidental Good Deed
Dear Diary,
Sometimes, things change you. I can’t pinpoint the exact moment I slipped over the edge, but it turned my life irrevocably upside down. One second, I was living my life as a basic bitch. The next, I was killing a man.
Oh, by the way, my name Karen Widowmaker. Well, clearly that’s what people call me, not my real name. Make one god damn Karen joke, and I’ll put a bullet in you. That’s the first name I was born with, and it’s too late to change it.
I’m a hit woman in Tulsa, Oklahoma. Originally, my life was just like any other 30 something year old single woman. I worked as a therapist by day, and I binge watched tv by night to fill the black chasm of negativity that my clients filled me with while they whined away about their Aunt Sally calling them fat or their father hating their husbands. Random bullshit. Trivial mostly. On occasion though, I heard something worse.
That’s how it all started. One day, a client told me about her husband beating her. I watched her sob. And something inside me snapped. I knew where he lived. And just like that, I was freaking Batman, avenger of wrong doing in Arkham City. Or I think that’s Batman’s story. I’m more of a Wonder Woman fan.
Over a week, I bought a box of disposable gloves, wigs, and a mask. I stole my shitty ex husband’s gun while he was at work. Then, I almost chickened out.
But then my client was back. Her eyes were both black, but she said that she couldn’t leave him. He’d threatened her kids. I had to do it.
As Taylor Swift said, “Good thing I’d cleaned enough houses to cover up a scene.”
When she left the office, I sat there trying to breathe through my anger. I wanted to absolutely annihilate that man. I got up, went out to tell my secretary to cancel my last appointment of the day. Let’s face it. Mike was just going to tell me who he’d slept with since I’d last saw him. He had a sex addiction. I had bigger fish to fry.
I left and went home. I waited until dark before I put on my black bob wig, my hot pink glittery mask that covered two thirds my face, and all black clothes. I put on my black leather skirt, black turtleneck, and black stilettos. I took the gun from where I’d hid it behind the tv taped to the back panel of the entertainment center.
I got in my average ass Honda and drove to the address my client lived at. Then, I circled the block, parked, and used the cover of darkness to sneak up to the door. I could hear yelling when I knocked. A massive bear of a man yanked the door open.
“Who the fuck are you?” He asked.
“I was invited to the party,” I said.
“What party?” He asked.
Before he could so much as move, I pulled the gun from behind my back from the waistband of my skirt, and I pulled the trigger. The bullet hit him right between the eyes. Something in me felt so much smugness. Before he’d hit the ground, I was off down the street.
I was back in my car and driving away before I heard the first siren in the distance. When I got home, I put the gun back, hid the clothes in the bottom of the bathroom hamper under the dirty sheets that lived there, and I took a shower.
Afterwards, I put on an episode of Bridgerton. An hour later, I went to sleep like nothing had ever happened.
The next day, his murder was all over the television and newspapers. I read the write up while I drank my twice microwaved coffee at my desk. I had a client in the waiting room, but I was taking my sweet time.
That’s when I heard it. I heard my receptionist telling someone that they could not see Karen without an appointment. I hurried out to see who it was, and it was my client. The one with the dead husband.
She was smiling in a way I’d never seen. Something frosty and numb inside me warmed a bit. Not completely, but a bit.
I asked, “What’s going on?”
“He’s dead. Someone killed him. Last night. Rang the bell and put a bullet in his head. I’m free!” She said, throwing her arms around me.
The waiting room was stunned into silence. I looked at her, mock shock spreading across my face. “What? Are you kidding?”
“I’m not. I swear. Did you read the paper or see the news?”
“I was starting to when I heard you out here,” I said.
She grinned at me. “It’s him. The man who was killed. I can hardly believe it. I’ll see you next week, but I had to tell you.”
I stood there while she rushed out of the office. I did my best to look as shocked as everyone else, but inside, I was beaming. I slowly turned to my next client and said, “Uh, I need just a moment.”
They nodded emphatically at me. I mean, I’m sure they thought I was in shock. I wasn’t though. I was just wanting to finish my damn coffee.
I sat back down at my desk, smiled to myself, and drank my now cold coffee. I mean, honestly, that’s how I killed my first person. I didn’t think she would be that happy, but it was an accidental good deed. I was doing it for slightly selfish reasons. I wanted to force her to get those kids to safety or get them taken away. They, at least, deserved better than to live a life of fear.
But no matter my exact reason, the dude was dead, and my client was much better off than when he was beating her. You know what they say. Easier to mourn them than get over them.
Oh… is that not a saying?
Thank you so much! I hope it lives up to all your expectations!
At last! It’s the Cereal Killer!