The Rebellion of Tori Jameson

I looked him straight in the eyes.

He looked back. His piercing glare. His charcoal eyes.

He knew that if he did this, I wouldn't be a leader anymore. I'd be a martyr - much more powerful in aiding a motivated army.

"I'm giving you a chance to run." he said "Why won't you take it?"

"Why should I?" I replied, running my hand through my hair. The sweat was making it stick to my forehead. No matter how calm I was trying to convince him I was, inside every bone and brain cell in my body was urging me to run. And resisting it was killing me.

"Because if not, I will kill you."

"Good."

"I'm serious."

"So am I."

He didn't move, and nor did I.

I didn't want to die, but I didn't want to take anything from him, least of all an act of kindness, of pity. I thought that I was too strong to be pitied. Maybe I was kidding myself, but I was too proud to be pitied.

Pride was stopping me from running from my death. It wasn't the first time.

"Come on, Victoria," he said, "I don't want to give the people a martyr and you don't want to die. Take the way out."

"I'll take my chances, thanks." I said "And it's Tori to you."

He sighed, grabbed my arm, and blindfolded me.

I was too proud to take his pity, but an escape was a whole different ball game. As he pushed me through the forest, I thought carefully about how to do it.

I could use brute strength and try to over power him, but being blind folded it was going to be hard to see where to hit, and he was probably stronger than me. Not that I wanted to admit that, even to myself.

My only other option, I thought, was to get the gun out from my boot and shoot. I knew that there were only three bullets left.

Should have been more organised. When did you last put more bullets in?

But I had to ignore that voice in my head because logic was only going to point out every single hole in my plan, and by the time I'd thought through it and made sure that the plan was fool proof, I'd be six feet under. I knew that I would have to aim precisely, which was going to be hard with a blind fold on.

Use your ears, genius.

I'd have to listen closely to everything. His movements, his footsteps, his breathing. Concentration was key, but it was hard to concentrate when all I could do was think of the others. But thinking of them reminded me exactly why I had to do this. Why fighting was so important. Why trying to bring them to their knees and making them beg for mercy is so essential.

So, as he pushed me towards my death, I tripped.

"Get up." he said.

"Give me a hand, I can't see." Weak. You sound so weak.

"Weakling." he said, and I heard the smirk in his voice.

"Fine. Don't help."

I twisted my body as I stood, pulling my gun out as I went.

I shot. Three times. Three bullets. Three chances.

He didn't make a noise. I didn't hit him. My stomach dropped, and I went cold.

No! No! How could you let this happen?

All that was going to do was send every solider in a 10 meter radius to exactly where we were. And he wasn't dead.