I pulled. Nothing. I pulled again, still nothing. Where was the sound? Why was there no sound?! I could feel my heart pick up. Was this tunnel vision? No. I had been trained and groomed for this, no way was I getting tunnel vision. Focus. Think. I could almost hear the blood rushing through me, I knew I had already taken too long. Why wasn’t it working?! It-the gun-felt like a hundred pounds all of a sudden. I had held hundreds-probably thousands -of guns before in the prep rooms. This gun was no different. So why did it suddenly feel so heavy?
I had to think. Everything was so surreal, the room, the gun, the people. The people. S***. I could hear their breathing getting heavier and quicker. Did they know this was my first time too? Could they have heard the two hopeless and pathetic clicks? I wonder if they realized I had already failed. No. They would have lunged at me, or at least attempted to escape if they knew the gun wasn’t working. The pit in my stomach was spreading, eating at me, and was becoming increasingly difficult to ignore. The thought gnawed at me. I had never been this exposed and raw. I had to act.
What would I do in the prep room? I could hear the trainer in my ear yelling. It was the adrenaline. I shifted the gun in my hand and fumbled around, trying to find the problem. The safety switch was still in place, how could I have been so stupid?! Click. My heart hammered-relentlessly-it felt like it was going to break through my ribs and I would shatter into a million pieces. Everything in me was shaking. This was never supposed to be this hard. I felt around the familiar edges of the gun, my fingers quickly recognizing the grooves and curves. I almost instantly went to pull, but it was like my fingers were filled with cement, and they wouldn’t budge.
“JUST DO IT!” I swear I had never jumped so hard in my entire life, I think my bones collapsed on one another. One of them, a female I think, was looking me in the eye. It was the first time I had really looked at them. She was trying so hard to appear brave, but if you looked close enough you could see her knees were almost vibrating, and there were salty stains tracing the lines of her face. I stole a few more precious seconds looking them over. The girl, the one who screamed, was an average looking brunette, except her eyes, which were piercing blue, like lighting. I saw tiny fingers gripping her arm, I followed the fingers to their owner; a pale girl, probably a sister. Again brunette, but with muddy eyes. She was probably six or seven years old. She was gripping her sister so tightly, I could already see a bruise forming. Their parents were behind them-her dad was the reason I was called here. The mother, I was guessing, was crying into her kid’s hair, holding them. I would have pitied them a lot more if it weren’t for their father.
I had been studying his files a lot before the mission. He was a cruel man; if his family even knew who he was they would’ve been right behind me with guns of their own. His eyes were cold, calculating and blue. Not like lightning like his daughters, but sterile, like a hospital. I felt nothing for this man. I knew of his crimes, of the atrocities hidden behind the promise of peace and justice they so often preached. I felt nothing for this man. So why was the family still breathing? My palms were slick and my skin was crawling right off my body. I had to get this over with. She was right, I just need to do it. Click. Click. Click. Click.
I imagined the gunshots just as they would have been if I had shot. Four perfectly placed holes, one for each of them. I heard a noise, but I couldn’t quite make out what it was. I realized then it was the sound of metal and concreting meeting. The sound echoed and danced around the room. The gun. My whole body stopped and the cement once found in my fingers had now spread to every part of me. I was completely frozen. I made eye contact for the second time in that small dark room.
The little girl was staring at me, almost through me. I felt my heart drop to the floor: I think I realized it when I picked up the gun, because somehow I was still breathing. I can’t do it. The words washed over me; I can’t do this. The weight of their lives were too much, and I just couldn’t carry that. It was like someone had been controlling me, pulling the strings because somehow the words left my mouth, and obediently the family cooperated. They left. Just like that I was alone in that small dark room, I heard the quick and disoriented scrambled footsteps finding the doorway as if I was underwater. Everything felt muffled, and my throat was so dry I felt like I had just swallowed cotton. Another thought occurred, and again cement was poured in my hollowed-out body; the Agency.
I registered then that with assuring the safety of their lives, I had just sacrificed mine.
My head was spinning. It felt like the walls were collapsing, and I was going to shatter. What had I just done? My eyes locked on the sliver of moonlight coming from the doorway. My feet hit the ground instantly, the pounding shook every inch of me. My lungs exploded when they felt the cold air the night offered up. There was no turning back now. My eyes ripped away from their fixated positions and looked onto the familiar scenery. The rubble looked different when it was draped with the star’s gaze. Everything was bathed in moonlight. My lungs and muscles ached. My heart was going to jump out of my chest. I can’t stop. I can’t stop. I can’t stop. I can’t stop. I can’t stop. My head was going to explode.
I could hear them-the Agency-already. They’d have someone tracking me in just a few hours. Someone will be tracking him in a few hours. Where is the family going to go from here? Where was I going to go from here?! I had only ever known the Agency. It’s where I grew up. The kids there are my only family I have.  Oh God. What’s Keaton going to say? My heart picked up again even though I wasn’t running. I felt nauseous, and again the pit in my stomach began to chew at me. What had I done? I forced myself to pick up the pace. I had to find Keaton. Keaton was my oldest friend. We always told each other everything. He’ll know what to do. Keaton always understands. Sometimes I think he knows me better than I do. I ran.
I found his window with ease. Third to the left, bottom floor, on the West Wing. I passed my quarters on the North Wing, it’s weird to think that that may be the last time I ever see it again. No, don’t go there, you have no idea how this will pan out. Who knows, maybe they’ll understand. I knew I was just prolonging this sinking feeling. I knew exactly what they would do if they found me. Keaton was a light sleeper, I only had to tap twice before I saw movement. Instantly he was at the window. I sucked in a lungful of air. No matter how many times I see him during practices and performances he always surprises me. I guess that’s why he’s first in our class.
The window slid open. His eyebrows furrowed and knit together, he was confused, and had a right to be. “Adira, what are you doing?!” I shivered, the air was piercing my skin. Keaton’s eyes flashed but returned to normal. “I…I...” I can’t do this. My chest tightened, and I felt that familiar lump in my throat forming. Control yourself!!! I swallowed the knot in my throat, and it joined the others twisting in the pit of my stomach. I. Am. Not. Weak. My eyes stung; “Keaton...” My lip quivered. Keaton looked at me blankly, “get in.”
His room was warm. I could draw this room blind-folded. I walked the edges, letting my hand trail along the wall. “Adira, I’ll say it again: What. Are. You. Doing. Here.” I stopped; frozen. “Keaton I got a mission last week.” “Adira you’re not supposed to tell me that.” He sounded so tired. He rubbed his temple and sat down on his bed. “I know, but tonight I was supposed to kill this family. Keaton…I couldn’t do it.” The last part was barely above a whisper. “What do you mean you couldn’t do it?” Keaton had risen, and was now looking me straight in my eyes. There was only a hint of panic poised behind his innocent question. The next words fell out of my mouth, rushed and desperate. “They, they wanted me to kill them. Keaton I was going to-I swear-but something made me stop. I tried I promise, I really did, but I just-I couldn’t do it! They’re people Keaton!”
“Adira you didn’t.” He was shaking his head back and forth, he didn’t even bother to disguise the panic this time. All at once everything came crashing down on me. I started to unravel “Keaton, please help! I don’t know what to do, what are they going to do when they find out?! What if they have me killed?! Keaton what do I do?!” I began sobbing, I couldn’t stop shaking. “Okay, Adira, I get it, you’re stressed out, but you need to be quiet. Okay?” I nodded and tried without success to muffle my tears. He looked at me and was chewing on his lip. He was thinking. “You need to pull yourself together if you want to get through this.” I nodded again. He turned around and walked toward his neatly organized dresser. He started pulling things out and placing them on his bed. “Keaton, what are you doing?” “If what you’re saying is true, then we both know the Agency won’t just forget about this.” “I know that, but why are you packing?”
“We need to get out of here.”
I couldn’t help but crack a small smile when I heard that.