Love is Foolish

She climbed upstairs and started to pace around her room angrily.

This couldn't be happened. She couldn't be having feelings for that fool. It simply couldn't be. She never felt anything for anyone. It was the way she wanted to live. She learned it well.

Love is foolish. She didn't need it. Love caused people to do stupid things. Love doesn't exist. She knew it. There was no reason or basis for what she felt.

Why was she feeling this? Why did Alex's happiness make her happy? Why did she feel guilty about Alex's pain? Why did she feel hurt when Alex tried to escape? Why?!

It couldn't be love. It couldn't. She had to get rid of it. She had to find a solution to the problem. What could she do?

Deep down she knew what to do, what's the one thing that would get rid of the problem forever. It was for the best. Well not Alex's best but hers. And everyone knew what was more important.

She pushed away angrily thoughts of guilt. It had to be done sooner or later. She tried to convince herself she didn't care. She'd done it many times. She opened her drawer and found what she was looking for.

Her small gun already loaded rested there, just waiting for someone to press the trigger. It was for the best she reminded herself. What better way to solve a problem then to end it?

She had made her decision. She had succeeded in following the plan, maybe not the way she thought but eventually she got where we wanted. But this, this was not part of the plan. This would destroy the plan and her life. She couldn't.

She grabbed the gun. It felt heavier than she remembered. But she was a great shot, having done it so many times. There was no reason for her to hesitate. He was just another man in her basement. There would be more.

She crept downstairs to the basement. She hoped he was sleeping so it would be easier. Her wish was granted. Alex was half standing, half slouching, his head resting on his shoulders.

She took a deep breath and reminded herself of her decision. She aimed the gun, perfectly on Alex's head. It would be painless.

She looked at him again. His eyes were gently closed, mouth slightly open. He looked like a little kid sleeping sweetly. He looked so relaxed and calm.

She looked again at the bandage that surrounded the cut. The cut she did. She harmed him enough. Was it really right? To harm him more after everything she did?

Stop. She told herself. She had decided and it would happen. She was perfectly silent, aiming against standing in a perfect pose,ready for the rebound.

She could hear soft breaths coming from Alex. They were slow and deep. It would be her fault that they'd be his last. She was about to hit the trigger when she looked at his sleeping form.

She slowly lowered the gun. She couldn't. She couldn't end his life.

She had to. She raised the gun. But no. She couldn't get herself to press the trigger.

Alex moved a bit in his sleep and mumbled something. She smiled a bit against her will at his cuteness. She frowned at that. Since when was Alex considered cute in her mind.

The chains moved a bit creating a jingled noise. She started to panic, holding her breath. What if he woke up? She couldn't shoot him when he was awake. She barely was managing to shoot him when he was sleeping.  

Alex moved a bit more and muttered something. His breaths slowly got even and deep again. She relaxed. He was still asleep.

But what would she do? To end all that talent and just his life. After everything she did to him, to kill him. That wasn't right. But she had to kill him. She couldn't let him live.

She couldn't think. She was so conflicted and confused. This was against everything she knew, everything she learned. She lowered the gun, turned around and ran away.

The second she climbed upstairs she felt so ashamed and angry at herself. She couldn't shoot him. What was the matter with her?!

She went down to her gym, where she had a punching bag. It was one of the only ways for her to relax and clear her thoughts. She started to punch and kick it, swinging from side to side, as she let it all out. She was so angry.

How did she not kill him? She had to kill him. She kicked and punched the bag again and again, each time harder. It wasn't fair. She didn't want to fall in love or whatever this was. She never wanted to feel like this. Never ever in her life did she ever have a problem with shooting someone.

This was his fault, she decided. Looking cute while she was trying to kill him. Making her like him, actually empathize with him. She directed her anger on him.

She was furious and had to blame it on someone. She had to find a way to get it out. Anything as long as she didn't do something she'd regret. She hit the punching bag again and again.

She felt empty inside. So angry and yet so cold. It was all his fault. All of it. And he would pay for it, she decided.

It was the only was she'd feel whole again. Creating pain was the way to feel whole again. She couldn't stand this. The anger was boiling up in her and punching the bag didn't help.

She knew what would. She stomped down to the basement.