Are you fucking kidding me!?

          I spent the majority of today trying to rip my hair out. I'm sure everyone in watershed heights heard my screams. Screams of frustration, screams of remorse, screams that announce to the whole world my own idiocy.
          I had to know my reason for killing Leland. I have never once looked into my own killings, questioned, searched for the truth.
          I visited my boss today, Mr. Vladamir. He lives just outside the city, in the gated place. I knocked on his door and he opened it with grin, a white robe wrapped about his overweight, too-tanned body. His smile looked crooked and his black hair looked too sheeny (and no, I'm not making a pun referring to that dumbass I saw yesterday at the carnival). "Come in," he said,"I presume the deed has been done." "Yes," I said, "he's dead." "Good, good, what delightful news." I sat on the couch while he went into the other room to get my money.
          He came into the room with a huge wad of hundred dollar bills clasped together with a fake gold band. There was a total of 10,000 dollars, a hefty sum, yet, as I have began to realize, not hefty enough to account for the loss of a human life. I felt shameful, washed up, I felt my face begin to burn red. I was, and still am, extremely embarrassed. I reached for the money, feeling slimy. I stuffed the money in my pocket and looked up at my boss. "Mr. Vladamir," I said, "I know that we make a pledge not to ask why our targets (targets...we have to resort to euphemisms to feign our innocence) are assigned to be exterminated (there's another one!). But with this case in particular, I feel as if I must know. I don't think I will be able to move on to other assignments until I know the reasons for his killing."
          "True," he said, "you are not supposed to know. But I like you. You have been my most loyal operative."
          So he told me. The story goes like this: Leland was walking through the gated community, near Vladamir's house. He must've climbed the gate--an innocuous crime--and was merely walking about, admiring the big magnolia trees and yellow sunflowers and beautiful rosebushes and big towering houses. He came upon a man who told him that he didn't belong in such a beautiful place and that he was "marring its elegance" with his homeliness. Leland replied by telling him that "all I want to do is see it up close." He was tired of admiring from afar. It was his time to look into the face of beauty and to walk the pathways of wealth and to see all the beautiful people there. The man was furious and told him that he would pay for his "disregard of propriety." Leland blew him off and kept walking the blooming boulevard for another half-hour before hopping back to watershed heights. The man knew Vladamir very closely and requested Leland's death.
          I killed a man, who, dumb and goofy and ridiculous as he was, wanted nothing more than to walk in a beautiful place for an hour. I am not a man. I am an idiot, and far more of one than Leland ever was.