Bill Skarsgård Imagines

G. Merkel: Change of Heart [1]

The snow crunched under his shoes as he made his way to the apartment building of his new target.

A girl around his age. Innocent, as many of the people who he killed were, just collateral. A lesson.

Apartment 9b. Downtown. No doubt paid for by her businessman father that let a few deals fall through with his employer. A gang with more ties to the crime world than he cares to admit.

Merkel wasn't used to this. He wasn't used to sneaking into people's houses, and killing them in their sleep to send a message. That was the people he worked for, and even then they killed for a good cause. This was because he had gotten involved with the wrong people. A gang.

He knew that it was stupid asking them for that favor, but he had no other place to get it from. He knew that when their leader had said he would call with what Merkel would do as payment, that he should have refused and figured it out some other way.

But now it was too late. The past was the past and now someone would have to die at his hand.

Merkel thought he would be slightly okay with it if it was the girl's father. He was a bad man, hands down. He'd gone back on his promises, he lost money that wasn't his. He deserved this. Not her. Not his daughter. Someone so innocent, probably oblivious of the situation.

Her apartment was spacious, the windows were left unshaded, revealing the mesmerizing view of the bustling city below. All of those people with no idea of the event that would happen in this house tonight. No one would be able to connect him to it, or the mob, but her father would know who did it and why.

The sliding door connected to her room was glazed over, shielding whatever was on the other side from the living room and kitchen.

His gloved hand reached for the handle and stopped. All he had to do was open the door, shoot her and leave. Then his debt would be paid, he could put this behind him.

How hard could it be?

-----------------------------------------

He's been there too long.

Standing.

Staring.

Not doing what he came there to do.

But how could he.

The moonlight shone through the window, just barely revealing that her body was hardly covered by the thin sheet on her bed. She slept naked, the red silk sheets only covering the intimate parts of her body like it was a dress, her hand holding the sheet to her collar bone. Her breathing was soft, face slack, and her hair sprawled up and away from her heavenly face.

She was beautiful.

And he couldn't kill her. Suddenly, the thought of spilling her blood was too much. He felt like he was going to throw up. That's when he made up his mind to spare her life.

He turned and started to make his way out of her room.

Maybe he could go to the boss, and ask to do something else, besides he owed him some favors-

He heard a gasp coming from behind him, and the shuffling of sheets.

"Don't!" Merkel quickly turned around, and put his hands up towards her, "Scream..."

You took in a sharp breath, not daring to make a sound, not even to breathe. In front of you stood a man you didn't know. His dark clothes, and hood hiding him from identifying him, but what really caught your attention was the gun in his hand.

Merkel saw where you were staring and look back to you. Your hand was now clutching the sheet to your chest. You facial expression, once serene, was now terrified. He started to lower the gun when you started speaking. He stopped his movements.

"L-Look. I know my dad has done some back things, but I have nothing to do with this. This is all mine, I haven't even talked to him in the past year, I'll give you anything, just... please..."

"I'm not going to hurt you." Merkel spoke, telling the truth. He wouldn't dream of hurting you.

"...don't hurt me." You said at the same time. Stopping afterwards and processing what he had just said. Was he lying? Was there someone else there with him and the sentence had some kind of sick second meaning like in the movies? You didn't know, but when you saw he turn back around and head out of your door, even taking the time to close it, you just had to know-

"Why?" You heard yourself speak, but you couldn't believe you did. Though you couldn't blame yourself. You needed to know why he spared your life. Why he thought it worth the surefire punishment awaiting him from his boss.

Merkel thought about not answering. It's not like she needed to know his feelings for her because she would never see him again. They lived in two separate worlds--and if what she said was true, about all of this not being connected to her father in any way, they would surely never meet again. And maybe that's why he told her. He probably thought that because they would never see each other again, that he wouldn't have to deal with the consequences later. You know. The confrontation. Having to act on the feelings he was sure he held for her. So he gave a simple answer.

"Beauty shouldn't be wasted by a bullet."

He left not even a moment later, closing the door to your room, leaving you to wonder who the intriguing dark man under the hood was, and if you would ever see him again.