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I run as fast as I can, my heart pounding against my chest, my breath fast. I hear the distant shout from far back. Just hearing the shout makes me want to laugh, but I'm running too fast, breathing too hard. It would be dangerous anyway. The excitement of a mission. They didn't call me wild for nothing. I duck under the sharp brambles into a little passageway that no one knew about. No one but me. Him and me, we both know about it. I love missions. The adrenaline rush surges through you, makes you faster, stronger. I touch the small gun in my pocket. The cold metal feels glorious against my warm fingertips, so wonderfully familiar. Now I laugh. They cannot hear me, they are way too far away. I peek around the small stone wall, the one thing separating me from the room, with its walls of bush and vine. I call out softly for him, and he comes. He smiles at me, and I whisper to him that they had no idea where I was, and that we were safe. His smile grows broader, and he tells me the same, that no one knew of his whereabouts. We sit beside each other, speak to one another. He tells me about his life, I tell him of mine. When I stand and tell him I need to go, he stands in front of the hole in the wall that lets us through. I stare at him, not backing down. His smile has changed. He tells me our relationship is forbidden. I tell him I already know. That was the reason we snuck out. He asks me if I know why it is forbidden, and I shake my head in reply. His smile is even more different now. It is no longer gentle and compassionate. The smile alone is enough to give me goosebumps, and for the life of me I cannot think of a word to describe it. He pulls out a gun and points it at my throat. I still do not back down. I stand very still. His smile frightens me more than the gun. It is different because our clans are enemies, he replies. I stare into his blue eyes. Before, it was an ocean blue, soft and gentle. Now it was an icy blue, freezing me to the bone. Enemies. I knew our clans were enemies, but I had thought he'd loved me in the same way that I loved him. I touched the cold metal in my pocket. He laughed at me. It was no longer a kind and loving laugh, but a chilling one. A mocking one. I pulled the gun out of my pocket, pointed it right at his heart, and with lethal aim, I pulled the trigger. I can't remember what exactly happened after that, but I do remember his blood staining the grass, his eyes wide open in an expression of horror, the full moon's shining light illuminating his pale face, a face as cold as metal, as the metal in my hand. I kissed his forehead and leaned down, holding my upper left arm, where his bullet had grazed, with my right hand. I leaned almost all the way, so my lips were right beside his ear, and I whispered a single word. The word I couldn't find. The one that described his smile, the one that described my smile. My eyes and his. My hand, his hand. The guns. Sinister.
FN Pixie · Thu May 01, 2008 @ 01:20am · 0 Comments |
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