Wrong Choice

It started off as a normal cool summer night, but now as I rounded the corner of the subway station, running for my life, it seemed like this night was as far from normal as it could get.

Anxiously, I glanced over my shoulder. Sure enough, there was a large, dark figure chasing me at a steady speed and holding a big, gleaming knife…

Earlier…

I was in the subway station waiting for my subway to take me to an important city meeting when a tall, muscular man approached me. 

“Hello,” I greeted him in my most polite tone. 

The man leaned in close so he could whisper something in my ear. I assumed it was a friendly request from a town citizen, but when he finally spoke, my stomach sank. 

“I’ve been hired by one of your friends,” he sneered, “and they want me to either kill you, or kill you daughter. It’s up to you, Mr. Mayor,” 

The air around me seemed to suddenly go cold, yet sweat started to drip down my neck. What am I going to do? I thought to myself. 

I turned on my heels and began sprinting through the subway station. Because it was near midnight, nobody was around. No one could save me. There was no cell service, no police, and absolutely nowhere to hide. 

As I ran, my mind raced. Who could possibly want to kill me? True, there was the owner of that orphanage, the one I’d knocked down to build a spectacular new mall. He’d been livid. There was my brother; he’d always been jealous of my success. And of course, there were the hundreds of people who had lost their jobs because of me. Basically, it could be anyone. 

“You can’t outrun me, Mr. Mayor!” the hitman yelled behind me. I looked back and saw that he was gaining on me. 

“You’ll never get away with this!” I screeched in reply.

“Maybe not your murder, but definitely your daughter’s,” he jeered. 

As I started to run out of breath, I realized that I had an important decision to make: my life, or my daughter’s. I could tell that this man was serious, and would follow through on his promise of murder. It just depended on whose murder it was. On the one hand, my daughter was young, and still had much life to live. On the other hand, I was a very important man. 

I bolted around a corner and was faced with a blank, white cinderblock wall. I’d hit a dead end! I turned around to continue running, but the man had finally caught up to me. I was cornered. There was nothing I could do. 

“I told you that you couldn’t outrun me,” the man chuckled. “It’s time for you to decide.” He held up his glimmering knife to taunt me. “Your daughter’s life? Or your own?” 

I drew in a breath. “W-who hired you?” I asked, trying to distract him. 

“Who do you think?” he replied smartly. 

Then I remembered the blood on my hands. The blood of my own father, who had been the mayor before me. He had needed to die for my campaign. Without the added trauma of a family death, I never would’ve gotten the votes. 

All at once, it hit me: There was only one person who would go this far to avenge my father’s death. “My mother,” I snarled. 

The man grinned darkly and nodded his head. “That’s irrelevant, though. Time to make your decision.” 

I could either have more family blood on my hands, or accept my own death. The decision seemed so obvious, but I was a selfish man, and the decision was already made. 

“My daughter. She’s the one you should kill,” I said confidently and with surprisingly little regret or emotion. 

“Wrong answer,” the man replied as he stabbed the knife into my flesh.