Options

Fight or flee. That's usually what it comes down to, and this situation is no different.

This was supposed to be my night. But now my lipstick is smudged and fading, my dress is torn, and my hair is such a tangled mess if I looked in a mirror right now, I'm sure I would scream. But there is no mirror here; there is only me and him, alone in this dark room, and if I did choose to scream, no one else would hear me anyway.

It started out such a pleasant night, and he seemed so nice and normal and here, I thought, was someone who would finally see me for what I wanted to be. I get so tired of the people who end up seeing me for what I really am, no matter how hard I try to hide it.

I've made many mistakes in my life. There have been many times when I chose to fight when I should have fled or visa versa. But I try to put the past behind me: to learn from my mistakes and then move on.

I remember smiling at him at the start of the night. I know my intoxicating smile is one of my best features. When he smiled back, I saw it was one of his best features as well. I could see the two of us being very happy together.

How did it come to this? I've never been in a situation quite like this before. This was supposed to be my special night to shine, and now I just don't know what to think.

"Why did you do that?" I asked.

He shrugged nervously. "I had no other choice," he said. "It's what they told me to do."

They. Of course by now I know who they is. Those sick bastards. I've known them far too long to expect anything more than this crap.

He knows I'm pissed; he can see it in my eyes. I see something in his eyes too: fear. He wants to calm me down because he's afraid of what's going to happen next, but he can't because he's too afraid of what's going to happen next.

He finally opens his mouth to speak, but I won't let him. "Shut up," I say.

I know he's a dog, a pig, a fiend. He deserves to die.

I stare into his eyes, such a dark brown they are almost black: pools of deceit and of rage now turned to helplessness. He knows I'm in control now.

I've never held a gun before, but it feels strangely comfortable: the cold metal against my warm and sweaty palms. I hope he can't see how I'm shaking. If he did notice, he'd surely think it was from fear. I don't want either of us to realize what it really is.

I want to say I'm sorry, but I can't. I don't know if it would be true or not.

He's scared now. I can feel it. I refuse to close my eyes. I pull the trigger.


I was chosen when I was very young: set aside to be someone special. Even after that, though, I never really felt special: I just felt weird. I could never tell anyone who I really was, and yet everyone somehow seemed to know.

That's why this night was so special. This night was supposed to be my night to put the past behind me, to change who I was and never go back. I thought I had options; I thought I was making the right choice, but clearly I was wrong.

It felt so strange to kill him like that. I've had to deal with many enemies in my life, but I'd always handled them another way. Of course, it's only to be expected that I would be unable to handle things like that tonight. The whole point of tonight was to leave those ways behind and so, of course, my sword was not with me. I had gotten so used to using it, but in this case, I had no other options, and it seems my new best option is laid clearly before me.

I look down at the gun in my hand and smile as I turn and walk away. Yes, this will do nicely.