The Experiments: Abomination

Chapter 11: Maia

Chapter 11: Maia

My hands shake slightly as the MK 23 goes off in my grasp. The noise rings in my ears, a sound that I don't think I'll ever get used to though I hear it daily. The sound of a gun shot, the feeling of the smooth black leather in my hand, I don't think it will ever become second nature to me. I'm not a killer.

I aim again, this time in the opposite direction and barely hit the moving target. After weeks of constant practice, I still have terrible aim and all I can do is pray that I'll never have to use a gun in real life. I'd really be screwed.

I take a deep breath and fight the urge to swipe my forehead where a thin layer of sweat has taken it's place. The screeching sound of the mechanical target gets louder as it approaches me. I turn on my heels and shoot the royal blue target that is shaped like a man, straight in the heart. Finally, a clean kill. The timer goes off and the blue and orange targets stop for a quick moment then begin to hover to the back of the room where the other unused targets rest. 

I unload the weapon with a click-clack while I walk to the exit of the simulation. I've spent a decent amount of time in this bullet proof glass room. At least an hour a day. Although I still suck at firing one of those killing machines, I have improved. At least I can actually hit the targets now. Any bullet wound is better than no wound at all. A certain british boy would tell me that every time he creeped on me and saw me exit the sim, distressed.

It's not that I want to learn to aim and kill people. No, the reason why I get so frustrated about my terrible "gunmanship" is purely self bound. I want to be as good or if anything, better than the other students in East Wing. I'm tired of them looking at me as the weak link of the entire group.

After I exit through the glass door and it automatically locks behind me, I carefully place the gun in it's container and deliver it to the back room through a small slot in the door. The sound of someone's heavy shoes clatter against the shiny tile floor but I don't turn around. I know he's there. He's been watching me during the entire session like he always does.

"Looks like you're actually getting better. I thought you'd never be able to hit the target with that crap aim of yours." Damian says predictably. He's not content with the huff I give as a reply because he grabs my elbow forcefully and pulls me off the fourth step of the stairs. I nearly fall to the floor. A bubbling anger suddenly builds up inside of me and a crack. After two days of silence, I crack.

"What the hell is your problem? I could have fell and cracked my head open and there would be blood everywhere. Jesus, do you even think? You see me and you know I just want to be alone but you won't take that. You just keep pushing and pushing until what? What the fuck do you want, Damian? We are not friends, you've stated that and I'm perfectly fine with it so would you stop acting like all of a sudden you care if I'm breathing or not!" I shout all of it with one breath resulting with me gasping for air at the end.

I stare directly at him with my eyebrows bunched together and my hands on my hips which I hadn't even realized until now. He stares back at me with his eyes as dark as night and his lips so tightly together that they have nearly lost all color.

"I just want to know what the hell is wrong with you. One day we're having a great time and then you come back the next and you're all moody and say you don't want my help anymore and you just stop talking to everyone. You're right, we aren't friends but I'm just trying to protect my investment." Damian tells me with the same tone of annoyance and anger that lingered in my voice just seconds ago.

"You're investment." The words fall out of my mouth so carefully that you would think they were diamonds that I was trying so hard to not break. His expression doesn't change as he nods slowly.