The end of being an assassin - retirement

I didn't retire because I became afraid. I retired because I finally understood what that life was costing me.  

I had spent years training and being exceptionally good at something nobody should ever have to be good at. I could follow orders, remain calm under pressure, recognize danger, and live with the consequences. The organizations respected me because I never panicked and I never betrayed the people who trusted me. 

Damn, retirement created so many different challenges. 

I had to learn ordinary things again: trusting people, sleeping without checking at least two locks on the doors, walking into a crowded room, bar, or restaurant without automatically identifying exits, constantly sizing people up, and realizing that not every stranger was somebody sent to find me.

The hardest part was my guilt.  I could tell myself that most of my targets had been terrible people. I could justify what I'd done. But retirement didn't erase the memories. I didn’t have nightmares, but sometimes while falling asleep, I still remembered faces, voices, and names I hadn't spoken in years.

Eventually I admitted to myself. I wasn't haunted by the people I killed. SA had trained me well; I was haunted by how easy it had become.

That shit frightened me.

So I walked away.

There was no drama. No final shootout. No final job.

I simply told SA, "I'm done."

I remembered how SA stared at me for a long time. Placed his hands on my face,  kissed both of my cheeks, then whispered in my ear

You don't retire from this life, Breezy.

I started training with SA at age 14. I had my first contract at 18 years old. I became one of his best. I am now 36. You can do the math. I stepped back.

Maybe you don't. But I just did.

Everything comes to an end eventually.