06-17-2014, 12:22 PM
Connor stared at Ayden. His brain had broken, trying to process what she said. He just looked at her, mouth agape. Every time he tried to think of something to say, her words would replay in his head. He twitched his head sharply, trying to clear his thoughts. The alcohol had worn off. While he might have liked a drink right then and there, he knew he needed his whits.
The fog had returned and he found it difficult to focus, his mind skittering away from what she said like water on a hot griddle. He became aware of the sound of the shower and suddenly he felt chill. Numbly, he said "I need to turn the water off. Be right back,"
Slowly he got up and walked to his room, to the bathroom, shut the water off, and then sat down on the bed. He put his head in his hands, trying to squeeze what she said out of it. His heart was beating. He looked at the door. He had to go back out there...he had to. But he didn't want to. He couldn't face her right now. Get dressed he thought. Mechanically, he put his clothes on.
As he dressed, little snippets of what she said kept coming back to him.
"... I had taken out my mark."
"I was hired to kill a man."
"I took aim and fired. You moved. I watched as the bullet pierced your back."
"I was hired to kill a man."
"I tried to help you."
"I was hired to kill a man."
"I brought the building down."
"I was hired to kill a man."
Something in his gut twisted, like someone had ripped something away from him. The pain of it was excruciating. He had something. Hope. Maybe a future. And now....now it was gone. Who was this woman? She killed people for a living.
A little voice in the back of his mind chimed up. So did that man at the bar. You didn't have a problem with him. But that was different. The men that he killed deserved it. His eyes fell on his boots, rust coloring the brown material. It stopped him dead. I killed a man tonight. With my bare hands. I pounded his face. Stomped his groin until it was all one bloody mess. Shame finally came. The magnitude hit him. He looked at his hands and saw dried blood embedded in the creases and folds of his knuckles. I have blood on my hands. It wasn't just an expression.
He looked at the door. She was still out there. He felt so many emotions. What he had done....it was right. Really? He rejected the question. It was right. He needed it to be right. But the man at the table. He worked for people, he'd said. Killing was natural to him. Just because the men he killed that time deserved it didn't mean they all did. And yet they'd drank together, Connor not caring at all. What is wrong with me? Who were these people that could do that kind of thing? Just snuff out a life without a second thought?
He realized he was avoiding the real problem. That tear in his heart seemed wider every time he thought of it, so he'd been hiding from it. Ayden. She killed people for a living. He shook his head. He wanted to cry. He'd thought they might have had a future.
He looked at the door again.
Edited by Connor Kent, Jun 17 2014, 04:51 PM.
The fog had returned and he found it difficult to focus, his mind skittering away from what she said like water on a hot griddle. He became aware of the sound of the shower and suddenly he felt chill. Numbly, he said "I need to turn the water off. Be right back,"
Slowly he got up and walked to his room, to the bathroom, shut the water off, and then sat down on the bed. He put his head in his hands, trying to squeeze what she said out of it. His heart was beating. He looked at the door. He had to go back out there...he had to. But he didn't want to. He couldn't face her right now. Get dressed he thought. Mechanically, he put his clothes on.
As he dressed, little snippets of what she said kept coming back to him.
"... I had taken out my mark."
"I was hired to kill a man."
"I took aim and fired. You moved. I watched as the bullet pierced your back."
"I was hired to kill a man."
"I tried to help you."
"I was hired to kill a man."
"I brought the building down."
"I was hired to kill a man."
Something in his gut twisted, like someone had ripped something away from him. The pain of it was excruciating. He had something. Hope. Maybe a future. And now....now it was gone. Who was this woman? She killed people for a living.
A little voice in the back of his mind chimed up. So did that man at the bar. You didn't have a problem with him. But that was different. The men that he killed deserved it. His eyes fell on his boots, rust coloring the brown material. It stopped him dead. I killed a man tonight. With my bare hands. I pounded his face. Stomped his groin until it was all one bloody mess. Shame finally came. The magnitude hit him. He looked at his hands and saw dried blood embedded in the creases and folds of his knuckles. I have blood on my hands. It wasn't just an expression.
He looked at the door. She was still out there. He felt so many emotions. What he had done....it was right. Really? He rejected the question. It was right. He needed it to be right. But the man at the table. He worked for people, he'd said. Killing was natural to him. Just because the men he killed that time deserved it didn't mean they all did. And yet they'd drank together, Connor not caring at all. What is wrong with me? Who were these people that could do that kind of thing? Just snuff out a life without a second thought?
He realized he was avoiding the real problem. That tear in his heart seemed wider every time he thought of it, so he'd been hiding from it. Ayden. She killed people for a living. He shook his head. He wanted to cry. He'd thought they might have had a future.
He looked at the door again.
Edited by Connor Kent, Jun 17 2014, 04:51 PM.