Sequel: Zero ›
rewind
twelve.
The gun was trained on her heart with an assassin's ease. He had the feeling that they had faced each other numerous times before, but he could only recall the few. She watched him, expression morose, giving nothing away. He had only known the young woman as his enemy, but it didn't make sense. She never reached for any weapon, nor did she make any motion to distract and escape.
Why?
He didn't dwell on it and upon recalling the current state of his only friend, he was quickly blinded by an overwhelming wave of rage, pain, and for reason despair. When he regained control of himself, he found his barrel smoking and her still form crumpled to the ground.
Immediately, he knew something was wrong. Instead of feeling as if justice had been exacted, he was filled with an intense surge of remorse. He dropped his arm, taking a few steps towards her then hesitating. He could understand why he wasn't feeling relieved when Marco was lying comatose in the hospital, but why was the regret settling into the pit of his chest?
He looked down at the young woman, copper flecks in her hair still alive and reflecting the light. Blood was blooming from the hole in her chest and staining the fabric of her blouse. For some reason, he found that he could not tear his eyes away from her. He didn't know how long he watched her, but it was sudden when he was struck with a chain of memories.
Why?
He didn't dwell on it and upon recalling the current state of his only friend, he was quickly blinded by an overwhelming wave of rage, pain, and for reason despair. When he regained control of himself, he found his barrel smoking and her still form crumpled to the ground.
Immediately, he knew something was wrong. Instead of feeling as if justice had been exacted, he was filled with an intense surge of remorse. He dropped his arm, taking a few steps towards her then hesitating. He could understand why he wasn't feeling relieved when Marco was lying comatose in the hospital, but why was the regret settling into the pit of his chest?
He looked down at the young woman, copper flecks in her hair still alive and reflecting the light. Blood was blooming from the hole in her chest and staining the fabric of her blouse. For some reason, he found that he could not tear his eyes away from her. He didn't know how long he watched her, but it was sudden when he was struck with a chain of memories.