saved to live, killed to love

s i x

I pushed his hands away and stand on my own, i looked at him with my best effort not to show him any sign of how emotionally unstable I am— a playful smirk remained plastered on his face, and every second that passes; it makes me furious, that I can't explain why i am obeying his words, and why it satisfies me to see him stare at me with his amused smile even if everything I did is none of my desire.

Is it because I am used to just attending people's demands? Is it because I grew up pleasing people? If yes, then I should probably leave, because as far as I know I left my parents to live freely; but with his eyes, so dark I can't see anything, it makes me want to stand still... and just be here.

"Fear makes people do undesirable things beyond what they can imagine." He muttered, caressing my cheek with his cold hands, "It is okay to admit you are afraid, but letting fear takes all your courage and leave you so damn vulnerable is nothing but a shitty joke of being a useless coward."

He wiped the tears on my cheek and pat my head, "Never thought you'd really pull the trigger, but seems like you work well under pressure."

I turned my face away, leaving his hand on the air as I took a step back; "Why did you do that?" I asked, almost a whisper as my voice crack with a huge lump on my throat.

"Just because I wanted to." He trailed, placing couple of bullets on the table from his pocket, "and because you needed to." He sat sideways on the table, placing some bullets on an empty magazines that comes out from his pocket.

I looked at my hand, droplet of blood evident on the floor as my hand bleed; his gaze followed mine and he chuckled, "You are not lying when you told me you don't know how to use a gun."

"Why would I lie?" I uttered in frustration, he was about to take my hand but I pulled my hand away from him; enduring the stinging pain. I can't believe that i'd really pull the trigger, all I know is that I was full of frustration that in every word he utter makes me want to prove to him that I can— the way I wanted to prove my parents that I can survive being out in the wild.

With shakey voice, I looked at him confidently, "Teach me how."

He raised his eyebrows at me, the side of his lips tug upwards, "Just so you can shoot me for real?"

I nodded, my mind is blank with too much thoughts running in my system; frustration is growing in me as I was way too far from comprehending his gaze while me, on the other hand, i had soul laid out in an open book. So open, so easy to read; and maybe, this is why he looked at me so low— as to why he called me weak, and see the fear i have.

He stood up beside me and looked at the table, "Pick a gun."

I grabbed the gun near me, it was enough size for my small hand; I looked at him, waiting for another instruction. The fear of holding this metal weapon is replaced with excitement, of eagerness to learn the ways of living in the wild.

"That is a .40 Glock Model 27. Nice choice." He took it from my hand, taking out the magazine as he placed it back on the table, alongside were some bullets. "Grab the magazine, set the end on the countertop before pushing these bullets down to the rear under these ridges. Fill it."

I took a deep breath, eyes were focused on the gun in front of me as I did what I was told— digesting every movement.

He held my hand and positioned my hand with the gun ranging downwards, "Hold the gun with your right hand, magazine on the other, then insert the magazine back. Hit it to make sure it fits there tight."

I can feel his eyes on me, eyes were sharp in every movement.

"The top slide right here, hold it with your left hand with your thumb facing you then pull it." I did and heard a sound clicked, I looked at him in panic to only receive an eyeroll. "That's normal. You just placed a bullet into the chamber. Now, aim for that sack on the ring."

I took a deep breath and held the gun with both hands, trembling, pointing it at the sack. I tried to lean closer, to point the gun more precised towards the target.

"If you want the gun to hit you in the face, go ahead and do that." I pointed the gun downwards, looking at him with confusion.

"How can I be sure that I'm going to hit the sack?"

He stood on my behind; he held my right hand, my index finger straight beside the slide while my thumb and the rest of my fingers hold unto the grip of the gun. He grabbed my other hand and wrap my fingers on my right hand on the grip, my thumb side by side with one another. He tapped my elbows, leaving it slightly bended; he hit my lower back as to why I stood straight.

"Even that gun has some recoil, hold unto the grip a little tighter. Step your major foot forward so you wouldn't stumble with the pressure, let your shoulder face your target so you wouldn't be hurt when you turned a hundred and eighty degree when you shoot." I took a deep breathe and positioned myself, he shook his head.

"This one.." He touched the upper end of the gun, "is called the muzzle, and this.." he tapped the other end near me, "is the rear sight. Make sure it's aligned when you focused on the target, but do not lean closer to the gun. Shoot, whenever you are ready."

He took a step back as I calmed myself with my eyes shut, I swallowed hard; aiming at the sack on the ring. My index finger slowly positioning on the trigger, I breathed out and pulled it; the gunshot roared in the basement. I whinced, the pressure of the gun against my wound is hella painful.

"That.. feels nice." I mumbled, placing the gun on the table as I saw the sack sway forward and backward. I hit it.

"That's good for a starter. Now wear this.." He handed me a black vest, a little heavy and thick; is this what they call the bulletproof vest? I think I saw these over the movies.

I hesitated for a second before wearing it, he took a couple of steps away then I heard it; the deafening roar of a gunshot as I fell on the floor, the excruciating pain of being punched in the gut made me choke for some air.

Ah fuck! I shut my eyes tight, gritting on my teeth as I threw my head back. I felt like vomiting with the sudden force that hit my stomach, "Are you fucking insane?!" I yelled at him, he just shot me. A freaking psychopath.

Groaning, I stood up and removed the vest off of me; letting it drop on the floor before I kick it towards him, his laughter echoes in the area as I whinced in pain. Nothing but anger in my system.

"That's how it felt to be shot, but with the vest on. Should I do it without your vest?" His gun remained to be pointing at me, and that smirk remained plastered on his face; it annoys the hell out of me.

I closed the gap between us, I held his gun and pointed it at my chest; "Shoot me, then. I told you, I have nothing and I am not afraid." I smiled at him, only to see his eyes darken, "Not even you can scare me right now."

"That's the difference of fear and anger. Fear gives you courage to do such things, especially when accompanied with pressure but only when utilized right. And anger? Anger make you fearless, and impulsive." He removed the gun on my chest and pulled the trigger as he aimed on the box behind me, the gun is near my head as the gunshot gave me the familiar faint sound of thin line.

"You still have a lot to learn. Meet me outside in a couple of minutes." He tapped my back as he past me, "I'll let you see the world."