"I don't know who you are, and I don't want to know," came the voice through the door.

"Sorry," the young boy's voice answers from the porch. "I'm just trying to sell some Boy Scout popcorn so I can earn a badge."

"Go away, before I shove that popcorn where the sun don't shine."

"You don't have to act so mean, you know?" the kid answers.

"Get off my porch before I send my dogs out. They're hungry and they like fresh meat."

Seconds later the porch is empty again, which is just the way he likes it. When he moved in to this house he put a "no solicitors, no vendors, no [your name here]" sign on the porch wall next to the doorbell. The fence around his yard is six feet high and wood, so it's totally private on the inside.

The days are easy. It's the nights that are the hard part. He works his IT job online during the day and then lays up half the night plotting ways to kill people. He's not really particular. His victims are random and his definition of "kill people" means ruin them for life. Their reputation, their ability to support themselves, their future.

He didn't start out to be this way. He had a tough childhood that led up to this when he was in his early 20's.

He never got along with kids during his K-12 years. He was different and at first that really mattered to him. He wanted to belong. He wanted to fit in and be accepted. But his family moved to different states every couple of years and at every new school he got picked on because he was the new kid. It didn't help that he was a bit different. He had a small birth mark on one cheek the shape of a kidney and that made him a target. Kids called him "pinky" and pushed him around. Being on the smallish side for his age was just one more factor.

At least at home, life was okay. His parents were doing well and he always had good clothes, and the family car was updated every two years. As far as his parents were concerned everything was fine. He never told them about the bullying and problems he had at school.

In high school and college, he did well at school because he had no friends and never participated in activities outside of school. He just studied.

Study was easy - he simply buried himself in his books and studies, but he was tormented by not being normal. It wasn't an adjustment that he knew how to make. He only wanted to be like other kids, but none of them wanted to be like him, so they didn't want to be his friend.

There was a popularity ladder. Every kid wanted to be on a higher rung of the ladder, and no one wanted to be on the bottom. The social awkwardness that resulted simply exacerbated the problem of fitting in and try as he might he just couldn't break through the veneer of cliques and friendships that had formed because the other kids had grown up together forming friendships from several grades of school together.

He tried to talk to girls, but he was nervous and awkward and a bit different. No girls showed any interest and even the less popular ones shunned him like he had some kind of communicable disease.

His one saving grace is he was good at math and science, and technology came easy for him. No social abilities needed; just do the work, write the code and machines will obey.

His separation from the social world had been building in him as he observed the difference between thought and outcome, the translation from organic matter and synapses being codified with code yielding the end result.

Somehow, the world didn't recognize the brilliance of his realization. No one would even recognize this as a logical answer. It was maddening. The sadness and anger steadily grew in him.

The cuts that he inflicted on himself out of self-loathing were never seen because he made them above his shirt sleeves where they wouldn't be visible.

He thought about suicide, but those thoughts just made him angry at other people for even putting him in this condition. It was their fault.

His first attempt at taking someone down came because a girl in his high school German class had mocked him pitifully after he choked up trying to answer a question which the teacher had unfortunately asked him in front of the whole class. His face turned red, his hands started shaking and he got out of his chair and walked out of the room.

It was her fault. If the girl hadn't glared at him and called him a "loser" he would not have reacted the way he did. But he just couldn't help it. She cheated him out of being a nobody and made him a momentary target for public derision.

That night in his bedroom he plotted his revenge, which consisted of spoofing her email and sending an email that looked like it was coming from her to three of the football players with nude pictures that he had manipulated with a headshot of her that he had taken, seamlessly photo-manipulated into a porn photo that he obtained from a website that he frequented. The email offered to have sex with all three at the same time anytime anywhere.

Two days later the news had spread all over school that she had solicited sex from the players. They, of course, had replied by email accepting her offer suggesting a place and time. He intercepted those emails and sent them anonymously to as many other classmates as he could identify emails for.

He was almost giddy as kids in school talked about her behind her back, whispered about her when she walked down the halls, and laughed at her in class. The best part was she was the daughter of a local pastor.

His proficiencies at street IT and social media were excellent. His tracks hidden, no one would be able to identify that he had done this. It simply looked like she was a sex tart.

Revenge is sometimes the sweetest when it's the harshest.

He found it quite interesting as he followed all the reactions to his subterfuge. "If I can get revenge or at least stake a claim for my beliefs I can make a dent for the movement," he thought.

Of course, he never once saw himself as part of a movement. It was just a convenient cover for his therapist. You know, you have to speak in hypotheticals to these therapists or they just don't get the point. They try to fix you. Like most other things in life, it was maddening.

He put dents in more than a few careers, which made him feel good, while not easing his pain at the same time.

He became a hired gun, a destroyer for hire. This kind of reputation is hard earned. A judge's marriage destroyed, a financier's wealth erased due to manipulation of records, a well-known politician brought down for sex trafficking. It was easy.

What satisfies him is the innate understanding that he is simply righting the scales of justice.

And, as a righteous person he takes on only those cases that are easily justified. Unless he is convinced that the victim is a bad person he doesn't take the case, proving in his mind that there is some honor among character assassins.

But, as with the start of each day, he feels the pang of loneliness and that wells up the anger inside him for revenge, righteous revenge.

On the first day of May, he gets a call from a new client. The assignment seems straightforward. The target is a local college girl. According to the assignment, she lives alone, goes to the local university and his client says that she is engaged in undisclosed criminal activities.

His process is always the same. Gather as much information about the target as he can, starting with habits, frequented places and times the target will be there. Then a search of social media posts to get the rhythm of the target's behavior.

Carly is easy. Her life seems pretty public. She posts regularly on Instagram and Facebook, less frequently on X and TikTok. Her habits are routine, her posts pretty benign, and he begins to form a mental, comprehensive picture of her life.

What's is easily visible doesn't yield any obvious reason to take her down.

He can't find evidence of any boyfriend, present or past. She seems to have a few friends, no more than a handful in number. Her movements are regular - classes, study, and a few, occasional social activities.

Interesting to him, he sees no obvious reason why someone would pay him to take her down. She just seems like an ordinary college girl.

He shadows her for several days, using binoculars and physical surveillance. Finding nothing, he cracks her email accounts and, reading her emails to and from other people, he opens up the window into her life.

He's puzzled. Still nothing he can discover that suggests that she's involved in nefarious or hurtful activities.

After a week, he takes a risk and follows her to a local Starbucks where she is sitting at a table with a latte when he walks in. He draws a deep breath and sits down at the table beside hers. Strawberry Acai refresher in hand, he looks at his phone as though he's checking messages and then ventures a quip to her.

"Love this Strawberry Acai, but what are you drinking?"

Her reply is direct but friendly, "My usual. I can't ever pass up pistachio lattes when I come here. How about you? Do you always get the same drink."

"Yeah, I always get a Strawberry Acai refresher. It's a habit. I guess that makes me kind of boring, right?"

"I don't think so. I think it makes you interesting and probably pretty healthy, too."

Over the next 20 minutes the conversation goes from casual to more personal as he tries to learn something that he can leverage to fulfill his contract. Or at least, something that justifies it.

She has a sweet smile and no apparent condescending attitude, the kind that has triggered him since adolescence. As they talk, she shares that she is kind of a bookworm, doesn't have a lot of social contacts and works part-time at a nearby jewelry store while going to the university.

He keeps probing and finally blurts out the question that usually settles his decision about an assignment. "So, what drink does your boyfriend like?"

Her response comes with a saddened look. "I have never had time for a relationship," she begins. "Can I be honest with you?"

"Sure, I'm just a guy sitting in Starbucks."

"I'm pretty shy. I don't really know how to act around guys. They intimidate me because I got hurt by a boy in middle school and it was so painful I never wanted to get hurt like that again."

"I totally understand," he replied. "I was the awkward new kid in so many schools, and we never lived in an area long enough for me to break into the cliques."

"Me, too. We moved every two to three years because my parents were alcoholics and were always losing their jobs. I hate to admit that, and I hope you don't think any less of me."

"I get it. My life was hell because we were never any place long enough for me to make friends. And I'm kind of clumsy around other people."

"No. I don't think you're clumsy at all. You have a nice smile and you seem like a pretty honest person. I wish I had known a guy like you when I was in middle school. I dreamed of having a boyfriend that I could spend time with through high school."

"I'm sorry. How did your dream not work out?" he asked.

"In junior high and high school I got asked out a couple times at each new school, but I was embarrassed and turned them down. An irritating and rude guy in my college class has been pestering me for the last couple of months. He won't leave me alone and he has a real bad reputation, but his dad is a rich stockbroker. He keeps telling me that I don't know what I'm doing when I turn him down. I don't think he's really interested in getting to know girls, just in using them."

"Wow, that's really personal. Thanks for being willing to share that with me."

"You're welcome. I don't know why I'm telling you these things. I guess you just look like a nice, trustworthy person, not someone that would use anything against me."

"Thank you. What's your name, by the way?" As he asked the question, he looked for the name the barista had written on her cup.

"Carly. What's yours?"

He noted that her cup said "Carly" and replied, "Elijah."

"So, why does your cup say, 'Eli?'" she retorts.

"I always got teased with the name Elijah, so I tell strangers my name is Eli. But I just felt that I could trust you and that you wouldn't use my name against me," he said with a slightly sad smile.

"Well, Elijah, I like your name, and I would never use anything to hurt anyone. Just like I hope other people won't hurt me."

He shifted in his seat, somewhat uncomfortable with her comment because he recognized his own life in it and the assignment that he had accepted.

Then he blurted out, "Would you ever consider going out with me? I mean, I don't know what we could do but I really like talking with you and I'd like to do that some more."

"That would be really nice," she answered. "I would like that very much. I have to go now, to get ready for work, but here's my number. Give me call sometime." as she handed him a napkin with "Carly" and her phone number on it.

Elijah took it, looked at it for a long moment, and then tore off part of the napkin and wrote "Elijah" and his phone number before handing it to Carly.

"Well, it was very nice meeting you. Thanks for the conversation," she said and then stood up and walked out.

Elijah sat at the table for 15 minutes, trying to sort out his thoughts, and then he stood, walked to the trash receptacle, threw away his empty cup, and walked to his car.

He was puzzled. There was nothing about Carly that he could see that would justify his destructive talents. He had taken a risk in talking with her, so he could expose the terrible person she must be. But something was not quite right.

For the next several days he continued to think about Carly and then inquired of his "employer" about the target he was hired to besmirch.

In a quick phone call to the man who hired him, he asked straight questions: "Why is she a target? What did she do?"

The very influential business man that had retained his service replied, "She treated my son like dirt. We have a position of prestige in this community, and she acted very disrespectfully to him, like he was just a commoner."

"What did she do?"

"I don't need to get into those details with you. I'm paying you $10,000 to destroy her in this town. You have a reputation for being good at that, so just earn your money."

"No problem. I will definitely take care of this. I'll need another two weeks or so to get things set up."

And with that, the conversation was concluded leaving Elijah to sit alone in his room for two hours in the dark.

He was busy working on this "case" over the next several days.

He called the number Carly had written on the napkin.

"Hello," she answered on the third ring.

"Hey, it's Elijah." and then he couldn't think of anything else to say.

"Hi Elijah, I wasn't sure I would hear from you again, but I hoped I would."

"I'm so glad to hear you say that. Could I interest you in a pistachio latte? I just wanted to see you again."

"That would be great. I work later this afternoon, but I have two hours before I have to go in. Does that work?"

"For you," he says with a smile, "I'll make it work. Shall I meet you there in say, 15 minutes?"

"Great. I'll see you there."

During this Starbucks "date" Elijah risks a turndown when he asks her if she would be interested in going to the river on Saturday. He suggests they could swim, lay on the beach, and if he's too boring she could bring a book to read.

Carly chuckles at the "book suggestion" but quickly agrees to a beach outing. They spend the rest of their Starbucks time finishing their drinks with casual conversation.

Elijah feels the quandary. He's been contracted to ruin the reputation of a person that he is beginning to like.

The first rule of assassinations, character or physical, is don't get close to your target. He can't help feeling that there is something very wrong about this assignment. He has not faced this predicament before. This is the first target that doesn't seem to be anything but a normal, reasonably nice person. He can't detect a character flaw in Carly, and that is starting to bother him in a major way.

Elijah and Carly have a great time at the beach, and in a quiet moment when there's no one around to watch, he leans over and kisses her on the cheek. He's cautious. Don't take anything for granted. She may not be who she seems to be, but it's worth a very small risk, he thinks, and then she leans over and kisses him back, but on the lips.

Electricity flows through him as it never has before. This girl is nice looking, she's courteous and friendly, she seems intelligent, and she just kissed him back. His risk has been rewarded in a way that he had always hoped for.

He's embarrassed because he doesn't know what to do next. He's never been in this situation before and now he feels like he's back in middle school and this is not going to turn out well.

She moves over next to him and they're now sitting so close on the beach towel that their bodies are touching.

She looks at him quizzically and says, "I'm sorry. Was that okay?"

Without thinking Elijah puts his arm around her and pulls her to him, kissing her gently on the lips.

"Your kiss was unbelievably perfect. Was mine okay?"

Carly nods slowly.

After a few more kisses initiated by each, Elijah jumps up and runs to the river, diving in headfirst.

They share a sandwich and a couple of cans of pop and talk for another hour until Carly says that she needs to go get ready for work. They grab their stuff, and he drives her to her place.

"I'd invite you up, but I have to change clothes right away and get to work. I hope we can do this again sometime."

Emboldened, Elijah says, "You can count on it, Carly," and as she walks to her apartment door he drives away.

This is all new. He kissed a girl, and she kissed him back. They had a nice time together talking about life and innocent concerns. His head is slowly spinning. She's his target. He has a job to do. He will earn a nice check for doing what he's good at doing. What's wrong here?

In the next week, he sees Carly several times. They catch a movie, have a dinner date, and one night they go to an overlook popular with couples to sit in the car and talk and share a few kisses.

Things start to jell in Elijah's head. He checked around and his client's son has a reputation for being a class A jerk, has been accused of date rape by one of Carly's classmates, and has been in several fights with smaller men where he reportedly fought dirty. In further digging he discovers that the dad, his client, has engaged in a few questionable deals, causing the demise of several local businesses which contributed to the suicide of two business owners.

Slowly, Elijah begins to formulate a plan, one that will even the scales, at least in his mind.

Within a day, an expose posting appears online saying that his client has engaged in sex with underage women, accompanied by a photo of the client with a teenage girl in a compromising position. One of the responses is from the girl's mother, who is incensed. She accuses his client of rape and says she has filed a police report.

Two days later, another post appears in X along with a reel on Instagram, this time with other young girls and his client. In one photo, the young girl is partially disrobed, with a neckline barely covering her chest. In the reel, the client is wrapped all over the girl who is similarly partially disrobed and seems somewhat disoriented.

In the next two days, emails and letters with photos are received by the client's boss, detailing dates and offenses by the client, and threatening legal action by the parents.

Now, several women and girls have gone to the police to press charges.

Suddenly, the client is besieged by media and his own customers demanding answers and accountability for his actions.

Elijah sues the client for his attempt at besmirching the reputation of Carly, revealing the client's actions. The client quickly settles the case for $10,000. One month later, the client has been fired, his son has quietly left the university, and the family has moved out of state.

Carly has been left out of the fray, with her identity kept under wraps as a protected witness.

After his client and family move, Elijah and Carly continue their relationship. Both realize that they are like two glass balls in the ocean like those that used to float ashore from Japanese trawlers. They have been alone but have found each other. Each shares secret fears and feelings with the other.

For years after their marriage, Elijah and Carly return to "their" Starbucks to enjoy their favorite drinks together and reminisce about their first meeting. Their IT business provides a comfortable income, and their kids are bright and popular.

The stockbroker? He was arrested several years later for lewd acts with underage girls. His wife divorced him and got a large financial settlement. He's now serving time in federal prison.

The stockbroker's son? After he got beat up by the dad of one of his female targets, he moved to Thailand and hasn't been heard of since. Rumors are that he was murdered by the father of a local girl and his body was eaten by sharks, but no one has ever corroborated that story.

If life has handed you a raw deal, when your childhood was horrible, and when you're tempted to just become an angry, bad person and blame it on your upbringing, remember that the scales of justice have a way of weighing in your favor. Pretend that life is good and treat others will kindness. A warm smile will usually melt even the coldest heart. And the payment you get from that will make life worthwhile.