To Believe (short story)

To Believe

Breaking rules was always regarded as a top offense, and if I betray the agency, who knows what will happen? Well, I do know, and I'm dead meat if I break the rules. But this assignment feels different. There's something in the air that feels odd, uneasy, like something is lurking, waiting in the shadows to strike. Those documents are important to the operation, and I'm not going to let the suspect win. I hear they're an experienced serial killer, fast and agile, and have more than fifty recorded deaths. And that I must get the documents and kill the suspect immediately. That was the plan. That was always the plan.
Honestly, I'm not afraid to spare a few lives if it's for the greater good, and I've been a part of many hallway shootouts, but I wasn't trained as an assassin, and I've never been sent in to kill someone like this. I quietly pry open the door, with my gun out, in case. My eyes first go to the chair, which the suspect is tied to. Kill her, get the papers out of the case. I'm just here to finish Agent B's job. He was killed by a stray gunshot after successfully capturing the suspect. I must remember she's armed, and that this isn't a game.

Her dirty-blonde hair, more dirty than blonde now, has fallen over her face in uneven clumps; it almost looks like rats or mice have nested in it, making their home in the hair of a suspect. Her once shiny silver heels have scuff marks covering them, dirt smeared over her ripped jeans, the skinny black tank top hugging her waist, tied up with a hair tie, the way she always did. No, it isn't possible. True, I haven't seen her in years, no one has, but no one could possibly let her come to this point. I recoil in alarm, as I see her gun, lying on the floor, unattended. This must be a trap, she's surely armed. I pull out my gun again, aiming. No. This is not happening. I keep the gun out as I advance, slowly, waiting for the shot. Just pull the trigger, Tana, I try to convince myself, it's not what you think. I still can't do it. I'm not like that.

I let out something slightly more audible than a whisper, but not loud enough to be considered spoken word. "Gena?"

My sister looks up, slowly, turning her head towards me. "Tana?" she rasps, "Tana. Put that away!" Her voice gets louder, as she lets out an ear-piercing scream.

I jump back, ready to shoot whoever she summoned, but after a few seconds, no one comes.

"Why are you shooting me, Tana?"

​"I'm...not..." I slowly put my gun away as I walk closer.

​"Why did you kill him? Agent B? And what are you doing here?" I can hear my own voice escalate.

​"I should ask the same of you," she sounds cold, unfeeling, but I sense something going on underneath all that.

​It can't hurt to tell the truth, really. After all, she'll be dead in a few short minutes anyways, and she may as well know.... "Me? I'm sent to kill you...."

​She laughs, not a funny laugh, but the laugh of a killer. "To kill me? That's funny! I thought you were coming to help! But of course, what with your secret work and your funny assignments. Always killing for the greater good. Always Tana."

​I try to meet her eyes, but they stare back, cold and empty. She isn't going to yield. I can't risk my position. I don't have a choice.
—————
"Happy birthday, Tana!"

​I roll over in my bed, groaning. I don't want to get up.

​"Gena," I whine, exasperatedly, "Just for once, can you let me sleep in? On my birthday?"

​"YOU'RE ELEVEN!" She begins jumping up and down, quickly. My eight-year-old sister definitely gets on my nerves sometimes, but I'm too tired to care. I bury my head under the pillows harder, as I try to block out Gena's giggles. Finally, I throw my pillow at her and tell her to go away. I'm not going to let her ruin my birthday sleep.
***
​"Tana?" My nine-year-old sister's voice falters as she crawls into my bed.