Hitman: Captured | #1 - HIATUS

► Chapter 16

This time it feels different holding this gun. Not because the weight is slightly heavier than the previous one or its distinctive features from the ones I'm used to but it's the sensation of holding it as I aim at the target ahead of me that feels...distinct.

Neil's presence across from me barely does anything to faze my concentration as it would have before; there isn't a single tremor in my hands and my breathing is regulated. I have complete and utter control—for once I feel like I can command it rather than stand by and watch everything spin out of control in front of me. Whether it's Neil's training or the improvement of my medication, I honestly can't tell.

Alexei did tell me to keep taking my medication, keep it with me. Honestly, this is the best I've been feeling in years. Like a cloud has been lifted from my mind and I can finally think freely, my thoughts aren't disordered and muddled together—nor is the constant panic or paranoia striking every nerve in my body. Sure, I'm still having a hard time getting used to my current situation after a month except having the notion of my life being in danger—as well as others—wasn't something I was concerned about a few months ago.

My hand maintains a firm hold on the grip panel, one hand cupping the magazine from below as the fingers wrap around the rest of my hand keeping away from the trigger. Forefinger presses lightly, estimating the force of the wind when it brushes my bare arms; a second later I pull the trigger hitting the target square in the center.

The tree a good sixty or seventy feet away from where I stand, gauging with bullet holes since yesterday. Neil had stapled a target practice paper in the shape of a human on it, making sure I hit the vital points that can either kill them or incapacitate them. Putting my arm down, I notice how Neil comes into line of my peripheral vision, "You're a damn good shot. You haven't missed once, it's a waste you can't shoot people." He advocates in a disappointed tone.

"I can shoot people, I just won't shoot them. I have no right to take a person's life." I correct the blonde Hitman who simply crosses his arms disregarding me altogether as he stares at the paper. Whistling softly, his honey hazel eyes avert to the side of my face, "Whatever you say, pretty boy. You look better than you did last month." Neil points out.

I give him a look to hide the embarrassment of my actions but at the end of the day, I wouldn't be myself if I wasn't making a fool of myself more than half the time. "Probably because I'm not a drug addict anymore. Are you still not going to tell me how you know that witch?" I ask, spitting at the word 'witch' with as much bitterness and venom as I can muster. Blue eyes flare at the ground for a brief moment wishing I can get a hold of her and get her to tell me everything that is going on.

No matter how hard I had been trying I wasn't able to remember as much as I wanted to. It all came in bits and pieces, other times it was too blurry to make anything out of it. So far, I keep having some fragments about my time when I used to hunt with my father—Wyatt. Although, he gave a completely different personality and air around him which makes me question if the person I learned hunting from is from him.

Then I recall that I have never seen Wyatt ever hold a gun. At some point during the hunting season a few years back, the man would flinch by the mere presence of it. Maybe the accident happened during a hunting season? I'm not sure. As far as I'm concerned, Wyatt doesn't speak Italian either, my mother does—Olivia.

Perhaps the man I keep seeing could be a relative of my mother back then. Although, I can't remember his face and his voice comes out disjointed despite the words being loud and clear from the back of my mind. "Give it up already. Why don't you let her tell you herself? I don't want anything to do with your family drama." Neil unfolds his arms from his chest raising his arm as an indication of showing he means nor wants any harm and involvement. I roll my eyes at the blonde whose bangs begin to touch his thick, straight brows and sandy skin glisten under the sun from the heat veiling the entire area.