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“I want them now.” He still wasn’t going to waver in his supposed superiority despite the fact that I obviously had the upper hand here.
“Why we do business with people like you is beyond me.” I shake my head and then pull the trigger. Mr. Nelson falls face first to the floor. Dead. Blood flows from his body to tarnish his crisp suit. I can’t help but think it looks better now that it matches his hair color. I run a hand through my neatly trimmed brown locks. Maybe I should emulate his style. Maybe not. I screw up my nose in repulsion.
There are bodies strewn all over the floor. Common sense says I should feel something at having taken away the lives of four people, but conditioning has rendered me cold to that particular emotion. Remorse is not a sentiment I possess. I place the gun into a tight pocket of the dark denim jeans I’m wearing. I find it’s always handy to have another gun because you never know when it will be needed. There’s a dusty patch on my jeans, and I brush it down. I’m meticulous about my cleanliness; it’s a result of my training. I notice a mirror in the corner of the room. Strange for a warehouse, but then I look at the position of it. It’s directly opposite where I originally sat. An old-fashioned form of torture, to see the pain being inflicted as well as feeling it. They had some brains, just a shame they hadn’t used them where it counted. I make my way over to the mirror to inspect the cleanliness of my face. I feel spots of blood on my skin, they will need to be removed before I leave this place. Thankfully, the shirt I’m wearing today is black and will hide the evidence of my crime. I don’t recognize the person staring back at me. He looks like the person I saw in the mirror this morning, but he is a stranger to me. His eyes are dark and frozen with malevolence. Is this really me? A cold-blooded killer? A streak of crimson mars the five o’clock shadow on my square jawline. I run my finger through it and bring it in front of my eyes to wonder at the brutality of such a simple-looking liquid.
“Archer, hold me? I need you.” Her emerald eyes sparkle with the fear she feels. I pull her close to me and wrap her in my protective embrace. “She’s gone. She’s actually gone.” I swallow the lump in my throat and stroke down the vibrant, cherry-red tendrils of her hair. It was a gesture to bring comfort to the terrified girl resting in my arms but also to my chaotic emotions. I can barely breathe; the metallic stench of death invades my nostrils still. She is dead, murdered, and there is nothing I can do about it.
“It will be ok. I’m here. I’ll look after you.” I press a soft, reassuring kiss to her forehead then bring her head down onto my adolescent chest. I hope she doesn’t feel the too rapidly beating drum of my heart. I will do whatever it takes to save her.
“Samara?” I gasp out of my vision. My eyes blink several times as if the ghost of the past has burnt my retinas. I’ve not thought about her in a long time. I’ve pushed her to the back of my mind, to escape from the sadness I feel at our parting. The regret I suffer from that fateful day has changed the course of both our lives. My chest hurts like my heart is breaking. I wonder what she’s doing now. Did she make it to safety?
The bodies on the floor reflect back at me in the mirror.
I’ve done that?
I’ve killed people.
I’m wrong.
I’m evil.
I place my finger back on my cheek and swirl the blood into my flesh. The red lifeforce that smears in a pattern of ever-decreasing circles makes me look like an ancient tribal warrior.
“No,” Samara screams out. I clamp my hand over her mouth and drag her backward. The body on the floor twitches, blood oozing from the gaping hole in the head. I feel the vomit rise into my throat but swallow it back down. We need to get out of here as soon as possible. I can’t allow her to become like them.
The door slams behind me and draws me out of my reflection. My palms are sweaty, and a thin bead of perspiration trickles down my brow.
“Arch, man. You ok?” The familiar face of my comrade, Liam, appear before my eyes. “Your blood?” He nods his head toward my face with a twist of worry on his lips. I shake my head. “Thank fuck for that. I’ll get a cleanup crew in here. I take it the boss was right, and Mr. Nelson wasn’t a man prepared to wait for his army?”
