staying.cool

just shoot me

January 10, 2006

“Go ahead. Shoot.”

A big black hole. Thats all she could see. Amazing how it seems to be bigger than everything else when its pointed towards you. At the end of a gun.

“Shoot !”

His finger was on the trigger. Even the slightest reflex usually starts with the clenching of the muscles. Usually the hand, though the mouth would run a close second. Under stress, of course.
And his finger was on the trigger. Now, she wondered, stressing him out in a stressful situation can’t really be a good idea. But, if anything was to happen; stimuli must be given. Every action has an equal and opposite reaction; as science puts it. So..

“Hey, chickenshit… pull the trigger !”

His jaws clenched.

Thoughts ran through her head. A little more provocation might be good. But he might pull the trigger; and its not easy to outrun a bullet. Aimed from a couple of feet away.
She shook her head. Looked down, her hair fell over the fringe. She could see the parting between her legs. Too bad it wasn’t of much use in this situation.
Given that she was trussed up. Classic sailor style. And the knots weren’t coming apart. She would know.. she had been working on them for a good fifteen minutes. He could probably have done anything he wanted to by now.
She looked up again.

He was standing in front of her, still in the same position. No movement, and his jaws didn’t seem clenched either. Where was he ? Over the edge, in front of it.. or backed away ?
She looked at his face. Nice chin, aquline nose.. those eyes. She shuddered. Gray. Killers usually have gray eyes. Betray no feeling.
Did he look at all tensed ? No clue.. no clue..

“What do you hope to do just standing there ? Don’t eye me up, pervert.”

A vein in his forehead seemed to come to life. All at once, she started the litany. His weak point was found, and the result would be better than she could ever hope for.
“Pervert, freak, gets your jack..”
The first tremors hit his elbow, as his hand seemed to be possessed. Pull the trigger. Pull..
She continued to scream, almost into his face.. the room seemed to be filled with her chant. Every permutation of sexual mania, every idea one could have about erotica in the worst form… and all at once, he lunged. An animal scream from his lips, and he pulled her hands apart - her wrists burning with the burn of ropes torn away.
She was pulled out of her capture, thrown on the floor. He stood over her, staring down.. she knew she had him.. those seemingly sightless gray eyes were filled with a rage; even as his vein threatened to flood the room with blood. He lunged down again… and clutched at her.
Closer, closer, closer..

3 inches from her face, when his eyes glazed. The mouth opened.. and she could see the first drops of blood rushing to the opening. He was on his knees now, his hand clutched at the stilleto she had buried in his jugular. He wasn’t dead yet, but his muscles were contracting.. when she pushed past him; pausing to whisper centimetres from his flushed face, his features still registering the shock of the stab amidst his passion.

“Bang.“