I stared down at the small girl through the scope of my gun. Carnage and horror stewed the ground around us. The little curly haired brunette child was huddled against the side of a dead woman. The dead woman and the child looked the same. The dead woman had a sort of childish characteristics to her. Even dead.
My mind was cold. "please don't kill me." the little girl barely whispered it. The fire of the houses around us should have drownded it out. Yet i heard it clearly. I was focused on her now. She was the last one left. The last on the list."What is your name child" i lowered the gun and squated in front of her. A hunters crouch. "rose. my name is rose." Rose looked at me with a calm cool.
"rose hu. i loved a girl named Rose once."
"she got taken from me"
"is that why you kill?" Rose was bold. i stood and raised my gun back to her head.she stared at me peacefuly disturbingly peaceful. like myself"i kill" I pulled the trigger "because its my job" i whispered it
the girls body slumped to the ground against her mother. i walked away calmly yet slightly thrown. walked away into the carnage and horror that was my life. into the nightmares that i created because i am payed for it.
there is a cold comfort in killing that which has hurt you. Either you face what has hurt you and deal with it. OR you kill what has hurt you. Either way you lose a part of your soul. sometimes its not about loosing a part of your soul. just what part you lose.
The greatest thrill is not to kill... but to let live.
· Tue Jul 14, 2009 @ 11:58pm · 1 Comments