Arsenic

XX

  Drystan watched as his target walk across the street- towards the restaurant that was situated next to Hotel Majestic. He observed that his eyes had the same saturation of brown as Gretilde's. The agent remembered her promise- as he continued to conflict with himself. His gaze resumed to trail after the German officer.
  Will she break her promise if I decide to kill him? Or will she break it regardless if I spared him? Her father must be comparable to his kind- cruel and destructive. I am sure.
  He glanced over to his target as he opened the door to the restaurant. Drystan was patiently waiting for the perfect opportunity as sweat began to form on his skin. He looked over to his glove.
  Will she betray me- like the rest of her deceptive kind? Does she wish to deceive me in promise to fulfill a desire of mine, he thought. What is it that I want?

  Years upon years had passed when he had lost the physicality and the sentiment of a place called home. Eventually, he was able to find someone that he could identify a home with. Although quite sullen, the middle-aged woman who looked after him for a month had shown sympathy for him- even if their initial meeting was when he stole fruit from her stand. His filthy and starved complexion was enough to evoke pity within her. Today, she promised to take him somewhere into the city.
  "Come on now, boy." she spoke as she turned the knob of her door.
  The mute teenager quickly hurried over to her, feeling a sort of excitement to go outside.
  "Do you have that button with you?"
  He pulled out a button from his pocket- the same button that his mother used to sew in the eyes of his teddy bear. His stuffed animal had eventually torn to shreds as there was no one who was able to stitch the rips back together. Thus, he attempted to preserve its essence through keeping one of its eyes. He showed it to her, indicating that it was in his possession.
  "Good, come on now."
  Opening the door, she allowed him to go outside before she did. Once he was outside, she closed the door and began walking- the teenager trailing behind her. As they began walking towards the supposed city, he had deposited the button back into his pocket. Today, it seemed that her surly demeanor was suppressed; as she only had an expression of neutrality. Soon, they had entered into the bustling, urban city of Essen. For once in the past couple of years, he was able to see one of the cities of his country with the accompaniment of someone else.
  There was an abundance of smoke coming from the various factories that could be seen around the city. Yet, he did not mind to the industrial emissions.
  "Do you like this country?" she asked as she turned her gaze towards him.
  He nodded his head.
  "Even after everything has been done, do you still love your country?"
  He hesitated before nodding his head once again.
  "You should hate this country by now." she asserted, responding to his response with dismay. "You should despise this country with all your heart."
  Her statement caught him off guard. He turned his gaze towards the ground.
  "Put your head up, boy. You have nothing to be ashamed of like this country has. There is no pride or hope here for you."
  Suddenly, she grabbed his wrist and began dragging him rapidly forward. He was confused on where she was taking him and why she had that conversation with him. As he was dragged forward, he saw multiple children holding their bags while boarding a train. He proceeded to see parents attempting to comfort their children before they were escorted into the train. The sight of parental figures inflicted a sentiment of somberness within him.
  As they arrived closer to the train, she released her grip on his wrist and hurled him towards the the conductors of the train. The conductor grabbed the boy out of reflex, but turned to look at her in confusion.
  "Take this one with you." she spoke in English. "He's a mute orphan. Don't let him come after me."
  The mute teenager could vaguely understand what she said (as he had previously learned English in school) but did not completely understand why she was leaving him. Frantically, he attempted to leave the conductors grasp on him- but to no avail. He could not call for her nor could he chase after her. The middle-aged woman turned back to look at him.
  "Hate this country for now on. You'll be off to England where you can have a better life." she stated before remorsefully diverting her gaze away from the distraught teenager.
  He attempted to run back to her, whether it be through struggling or pulling his body away from the conductor. But he did not the strength to escape nor the will, as he was forcefully taken into the train. Once again, those he had loved and depended on the most had left him.

  Abruptly, his thoughts were interrupted with the sound of a door opening. Quickly, he turned his attention to where he heard the noise. Settling his gaze towards the direction where he heard the door open, he saw his target exit the restaurant. Upon seeing his distinctive uniform, the beads of sweat upon his skin began to amplify quickly. He quickly assembled his Sten gun using the parts inside his pockets.
  Holding the firearm discreetly within his and near his trigger finger, he began clenching it tightly so it would not slip away from his hand. Observing his target's movements, he moved subtly after him through the alleyways as they walked away from the restaurant. His target continued to stray further away from the restaurant with each step, making the tension within Drystan build up further. The mute agent compromised with himself internally on multiple occasions to procrastinate the assassination of his target. He avoided looking at the color of his target's eyes; as it reminded him too much of the person who swore a promise to him.
  Finally, his target had stopped walking. This sudden halt inflicted a sense of confusion upon the mute agent as he held the Sten gun in his hand. Hesitatedly, he began to aim his firearm at the German officer. His position was utterly ideal- where a firing bullet could not miss. He found his hesitance to be puzzling to him as he had always lacked hesitance in previous missions.
  Unexpectedly, he saw the German officer slightly retreat into an alleyway before taking out a photograph from his pocket. As Drystan observed the officer putting it out in front of him, he recognized the girl in the photo. The German officer smiled in a bittersweet manner as he looked at the photo of his daughter. The scene made Drystan retreat his gun away from its aimed position before placing it down on the ground. He stared at his gloved hands in disbelief.
  Their quaint smile was reminiscent to his own father- a contradiction to what he associated with his grey green uniform. Drystan began to shake and quiver as his memories swam back into his mind. He attempted to stop trembling so much as it would jeopardize the success of his mission. He began to see blood drenched in his hands and clothing as he was reminded the corpses of his parents- laid in a puddle of crimson. The mute agent attempted to breathe as he sucked in air into his mouth while gritting his teeth.
  He took another deep breath as he looked down on the floor. He kept seeing the puddle of blood beneath them. He covered his eyes; not wanting to relive the scene over again. Drystan was frightened from unraveling his hands from his gaze as he began to hate himself more everytime time he saw blood on himself. He took another exhalation.
  Drystan retreated his fingers from his eyes, no longer seeing himself drenched in blood or the corpses of his parents. Slowly staring back at the officer, he continued to conflict with himself. He took another inhale of air before exhaling. The agent reached for his firearm that laid upon the ground, his fingertips striving to touch its metallic texture. He found it to be increasingly difficult to grab the gun and to execute his mission quickly as it seemed that the firearm was straying farther from his reach.
  As he glanced at his target- whose smile that he did not understand. One of his fingertips touched the hard, cold surface of metal before quickly retreating his hand back. He stared at his gloved fingertips.
  Why is it so difficult? Why am I hesitating? If I shoot him, then I will be able to amend my uselessness, he thought.
  Once again, he could see his target pondering upon the photograph of his child. His cobalt gaze continued to be fixated on both his target and the photograph. He put his hand into one of his pockets of his pants and tightly gripped the peculiar button inside. Withdrawing his hand from his pocket, he looked at his target before looking down on his firearm. Decisively, he picked up his Sten gun and began dissembling his Sten gun into its rudimentary and initial form of mechanical pieces.
  The agent deposited the pieces back into the pockets of his trench coat. As he stared back at his target and the photo that the German officer held, he retreated himself into the shadows of the alleyways. As he made his way back, he found refuge in his grasp on the button in his pocket.