"Hypocrisy": A Brief Narrative Comprised Mostly of Implications

Hypocrisy. He mouthed the word to himself, tongue molding the word slowly, as if it was tangible. Closing one eye, he shoved the other to the barrel of his shiny silver pistol. He preferred hooks and knives, but the guns had to be cleaned, too. Blood on the barrel. He hated that. No, he loved it. It spoke of purity. Someone had just been refined. Work was getting done; heaven was being populated. Or hell. Probably hell. He smiled. God was being satisfied.

Her mind was wandering. But wasn’t everyone’s? Her Bible lay open in her lap as the pastor’s voice echoed through the walls of the church. The sheetrock walls were stark against the red banners, bearing messages like “Prince of Peace”; “Lord of Lords”, flowing in silver script. She jumped. Settling again, she looked around to see if anyone else had been startled by the pastor’s sudden bang on the pulpit’s fake-wooden surface. They hadn’t. Embarrassed, she tried to focus on the words being preached. She knew she wouldn’t remember them, but in all honesty, she didn’t really care. She was here, wasn’t she? She donated every month, didn’t she? She was doing her part. Work was getting done. She sighed. God was being satisfied.

Her name was Mandy. And she was next on Mark’s list. Not particularly important in any way; just next. Mark smiled slightly. Mark and Mandy. Cute.
At the moment, Mark was standing at Mandy’s window, watching her. Well, not exactly; it was too dark to actually see her sleeping form on the bed, but he knew she was there. He knew because he had watched her come into the room. He’d watched her kick her black business flats into a clean corner where the white carpet met the whiter wall. He’d watched her pet her black dog on her blue queen-sized bed. He’d even watched her change out of her church attire: a black mid-calf skirt and a dark red blouse.

She changed into an oversized T-shirt, which he knew she usually took off later in the night, frustrated with the feeling of the seams pressing into her skin. These details were important. Everyone overlooked details, but not Mark. He wanted them, all of them, and he wanted to collect them himself. With his own eyes. He knew she was there. He knew it tonight, and he had known it for the past four months. But it wasn’t Mandy’s nightly habits that drew him to her. No, it was her need. The need she didn’t know she had. The need to break from her dull complacency. Hypocrisy.

Mark clenched his fists, feeling his nails bite into the palms of his hands. He ground his teeth, spittle bubbling from the corners of his mouth. Slowly, he drew his tongue across his lips. He itched to begin this job, just as he itched to begin every other job. But he was a smart man; a disciplined man. He would wait for the right moment to begin every phase of this refinement. These things took time. He would take his time, and do his job well. With one last glance at the dark window, Mark stalked off into the night. Soon it would really begin.