Beauty, Brains, And Bullets // 5sos

xx

/ self-harm trigger warning towards the end /

Agent B's point of view

"How did it go?" Agent J asked as I got on to the helicopter. I threw my gun on the floor and took my seat, not bothering to look at him. "Well?"

My silence threw him off.

"Are you just going to sit there are ignore me?" He asked as the helicopter took off. "Agent B, I am talk-"

"I couldn't do it." I yelled at him and then held my head in my hands. "I-I didn't do it, is that what you want to hear?" I asked and looked up at him.

"Why not? You were so set on it." He said and took a seat beside me. "What changed your mind?"

"I don't-I don't know." I said and shook my head. "I didn't do it. I let him go."

"Did to at least get the information you needed?" He asked and I shook my head. "Then what the hell was the point of coming here?" He asked angrily.

"Sit down." I snapped and forced him to sit. "Just be quiet." I said and he ran a hand through his short hair. "I need quiet."

"I'm so disappointed in you." He told me and I took a deep breath, watching him walk away to the pilot. I blinked a few times and then looked out of the window, sighing to myself.

I looked out of the window, watching the city pass as another sigh escaped my lips. I wonder if any of them have to go through what I do, probably not honestly. I doubt any of then have gone through what I have.

I turned away, prying my eyes from the scene. I closed them and then set my elbows on my legs, threading my fingers through my hair. I kept my head down, a dull ache in the back of my head.

I question why I've gone through what I have sometimes, and it's not even in the form of self-pity. It's more of, what significance does this have in this life of mine? Why is this important?

Given, if there is a God, why had he decided to put me through all of this? Although it's selfish of me, why hadn't he given this life to someone else? Why me?

Why couldn't I grow up playing with monster trucks and dirt with my brothers? Why couldn't my parents be sane, middle class working, and actually care for us? Why couldn't I have had a girlfriend all through highschool, possibly college, and then get married.

Why didn't I live a happily ever after?

I rested my forehead on the palm of my hand, sniffling quietly to myself. Why. That's all I could ask, all I couldn't answer.

Why did they choose me to put a chip in? Why did they choose me to go into the military to kill, to watch people get killed? Why did I have to be this... this monster?

A tear slid down my arm and I squeezed my eyes a bit, biting the inside of my cheek to stop from crying. Why am I crying?

Why was I taught that crying is weakness, a sign of loss in strength?

Why. Why. Why.

"Agent, boss told me that if you costed this agency anything, you're-Are you... Are you crying?" He asked me and I didn't bother answering.

Maybe if I just pretend to be asleep...

"Why the hell are you crying Agent?" He asked me, seeming disgusting by my show of emotions. "Suck it up or I will not hesitate to tell boss."

"Oh shut the fuck up." I said lowly, my voice scratchy as I looked up at him. He seemed taken back by my swollen eyes and my response, but showed no sign of backing down.