“I remember you,” he said, taking a long drag off his cigarette. “You finally found me.”
I stood in the doorway, rage pumping through me. My entire body was trembling from the restraint I needed to not kill him instantly. My gun was shaking to the point I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to maintain my grip on it. I had to calm down if I was going to get answers from him, I had to breathe.
“What are you doing standing over there? Get in here already and do it,” he said, waving his hand, “You ain’t got long. They’ll be back soon.”
“W-Why-” I stammered, trying not to scream, unable to finish my question
“Why? Because I’m a bad man. I deserve it. I don’t get to live forever and the longer I live the more people I hurt.” he replied, “To be honest I’m tired of it.”
I shook my head, trying to clear it. My hands instinctively went to my temples, trying to keep the pressure inside before my head exploded. The gun was cold and hard against my skin.
“You okay, kid?” he asked, rising from his chair. I could see his large belly sticking out over the top of his grease-stained shorts. The tank top he was wearing had ridden up over his stomach on one side. “You don’t look so well…”
That’s when I heard it.
“Shoot him…” it said, deep from inside me. It sounded dark and sinister, unclean and yet seductive.
“STOP!” I screamed, more to the inside voice than to the sad-looking man standing before me with his hands raised.