My life as a hit-man was exceptionally electrifying. Every month or so, a letter with the phrase "Dear Jason L. Death" would be found at a bin behind my house, in the dark and unnoticeable alley. Before I opened any of the letters, they would greet me with images of my past victims. However, that did not deter me at all. In fact, I grinned gleefully, hoping that my next mission would be even more …showed first 75 words of 667 total…

…showed last 75 words of 667 total…of us during an argument, and was fatally killed by my bullet through her heart. The bullet did not stop there; it killed my niece with a blast through her forehead. Till today, I wonder if my life ended because of betrayal, or my lack of skill. Notes: Readers please supply me with comments and scores. This is a new style of writing I've adopted and I hope everyone would enjoy reading the essay! Thanks :)