“The only way to save her was to kill her. It was not something I wanted to do, but I needed to do it.
The woman I captured was a serial killer just like me, but she was worse. I killed bad people for money, she killed children for fun.
The parents of one child she killed hired me, but as always before I accept any contract, I do my investigation. I found out she was a monster, but with reason. A few years ago she put to bed a bouncing baby boy and as the doctor was about to put the baby in her hands, a bullet came through the window straight to the baby’s head, till date no one knows who did it or why. Since then she decided she was going to make as many mothers as she could, feel the same pain.
As crazy as it was, I felt sorry for her, so I thought of giving her a second chance, but then I had to do my job.
I covered her mouth with duct tape; she struggled to say something, to get free, but I could not allow her to change my mind, so with my eyes closed I shot her on the forehead. A few weeks later while reading the papers I saw boldly written with a picture: Child serial killer arrested. Arrested or dead.
I checked the name my client sent me and the one on the papers, it was the same surname but different first names. Then I checked the pictures, it was the same too, then I realized she was an identical twin.”
“So you killed the wrong sister?” The detective asked, his voice mixed with emotions.
“Yes, detective,” I said, and put my handcuffed hands on the table. “I messed up.”