6. Why Reese?
I left the warehouse in a daze. I couldn't walk in a straight line and I couldn't think straight. I held the envelope in one hand, and the wad of moey in the other. The only thing I could thin k about was Reese's name written in red ink on the paper. I didn't know who wanted him dead, but it didn't matter. All that mattered was someone wanted Reese dead, and they wanted me to do it. What could he have done? I know that some people change, but people like Reese? I haven't seen him in 16 years and now the first time I see him I am going to have to kill him. As I walked down the streets of Manhattan, his face was etched into my mind. It was still perfectly clear. His blue eyes that looked directly into your eyes when you spoke to him, and shined even brighter when tears formed in them, and sparkled when he laughed. His blonde hair that turned bright in the summer when we played outside all day playing soccer or cops and robbers and turned darker in the winter when we stayed in and drank hot chocolate while we sat by the fire and told ghost stories to each other. He may have been 8, but he had a lot of love in his heart. He couldn't hurt anybody. Especially spiders. It may sound odd, but he was terrified of spiders. I had to smash them all for him because he was too afriad to touch it.
The only people that would be on the streets this late at night would be hookers and gang bangers, but I wasn't afraid. Partly because I was too confused and worried to be scared, and I knew that anyone who tried to steal from me could be easily paralyzed. I could even make a man unable to have make any babies for the rest of his sorry ass life. But even as I arrived at my complex, there was one question on my mind.