Crimson red painted the once white walls of the studio apartment. I stood over her body and pondered why I did it. Was it the money that convinced me to become this demon? Pressured by my own greed but also haunted by my guilty conscience? Or was it the fear of the consequences? Actions not of my own, only provoked by my will to live?

I keep telling myself it's the latter.

I watch her clock tick from 5:58 am to 5:59 am.

My eyes now struggle to stay open as I watch the clock finally hit 6. A kind looking old lady approached the register. She sat her items down as I was walking away.

Confused, she asked, “Young man, aren't you going to check me out?.”

“I'm actually on break right now. My co-worker will be here to help you righhh-” I swing my hands around until Sydney appears from the back room. “-hht now.”

Sydney gives me a dirty look.

So does the old lady.

I make my way out the back of the gas station to light up a cigarette, forgetting I didn't have one.

I sat on the curb alone. Break time is a key moment of my work schedule. Although solitude with only my thoughts hurt, it feels better to switch between the two pains that haunted me; my conscience and customer service. But I had forgotten about the third pain…

“Still out there killing people, Rambo?”

And the third pain was a lot louder than the other two.

“Christian, shut your mouth. You can't go screaming about that. What if Sydney heard you?”

“And she'd believe we're serious? Highly doubt that, Grady.”

Christian pulled out a cigarette carton and slides one out. He lit it on what had to be like the 6th try before taking a drag and passing it to me, giving me an incentive to stay.

“You know, if I got to do what you do, I'd be content,” Christian said, not knowing how childish he sounds.

“Yea, but I'm a lot older than you, so it gets to me different.”

“I'm 18 and you're like 24.”

“That's not how I meant it. The shit I've been through aged me faster. You'd be grieving too if you were stuck with my job.” I pass him back the filter, which he accepts before noticing.

“Well, they're paying you. It's not like they're forcing you to ki… I mean, do it without any rewards.” Christian took out another and handed it to me for later. “Why not take the money from the whack jobs and escape these whack jobs. See what I did there?”

"They got something on me. I can't escape that easily. Lighter… now." I grab the lighter from his hands before getting up. I start to pat him down, finding his cigarettes, taking another one and ditching him.

"This is robbery Grady. Highway robbery!" He throws a rock at me but misses.

I walk around to the front, only to be greeted by my fourth biggest pain, not in that order though, she's easily my second.

"Officer…"

"Grady. I told you, call me Kelly. We grew up together, you can drop all that professional stuff."

Kelly was my childhood friend. Rough like a tom-boy, beautiful as a model. Her long red hair and freckles painted her as a sweet innocent girl, but I knew better.

"I'm not here for the case Grady, I'm here for you. I want to make sure you're alright. I mean your family-"

"I'm fine."

"Are you though?"

"Officer, is there anything I can help you with. I'm on break so if not…"

"I just figured, with all the preparation you've gone through in life, you know with the college degree and the internship, you'd be working at, well not a gas station. I don't understand. How much money could you be making? I mean paying for a three bedroom apartment and the fam-"

I knew what she was doing. She has that look on her face. That's the look she gets when she wants to start a fight. I know her too well.

"Kelly, please."

Kelly sighed and looked around. She gave me a hug. I kept telling myself I didn't need it, but I did. I almost cry in her arms, but I can't. Kelly would see red if I did.

"It's okay, Grady. I want to help you, but you gotta help me too. So when you're ready, give me a call."

Kelly walked back to her car. She turned back to me and yell, "Call me if you need support. I'm still here for you."

The night was all but over and I was exhausted after my shift. With my task completed earlier, I was free to go home and sleep in.

I reach the apartment building and buzz myself in. Before I can reach my sanctuary, my neighbor opens his door. Jim was a mean old man who hated me since the day I moved in. He comes outside with a box and was visibly shaken.

"Yo-y-your friends dropped it off. I didn't open it like they said."

He handed me the lightweight box before proceeding back to his door. He turned around with his usual angry look and said, "Tell your creepy ass friends not to fuck with me again! I'll bring a gun next time!" Jim slammed the door, leaving me shaken as well. I don't know who he means.

Before I could unbag what just happened my phone rings. Every ounce of me shook as the unknown number rings. I didn't answer. I never answer anymore. Last time I answered, they threatened me. Even after it stopped ringing, the voicemail didn't come through immediately. It must have been a long one. And a long one it was. 

I check the voicemail. The calm and smooth voice that usually spoke was replaced by a panicked one. It was the same lady, yet this time, it was different. It sounds less like an order and more of a plead.

"Okay, listen carefully. Delete this message when you're done, as always. From here on out, you'll be working as a team. You're all be named after your masks. Your codename is Puzzled…"

I wonder what mask they're talking about. I save the voicemail, deciding to open the box first. It was as she said, a mask. I walk to the mirror and am greeted by my sulking face. My saggy blue eyes. My unkempt blond beard. I needed to shave and sleep more.

I raise the mask and put it on. It's hard to breathe in but surprisingly easy to see through. I look at myself with the mask on and I look puzzled. Under the mask, I looked beat and broken. With the mask on I appeared clean and new. I looked mysterious and dangerous. I... basically looked like a Shyguy. ( •. •)