Sadistic

The cold metal of a gun sears into my chest. But it isn't the gun which concerns me, it's the man behind it.

"Go on," I whisper hoarsely.

He chuckles dryly. "I've done this a long time now, baby. You can drop the tough act."

My eyes narrow in on the metal barrel aimed in the center of my chest, his finger hovers over the trigger. In a millisecond, this could all be done. I was never one to fear death, no. I anticipated it.

Lifting my heavy gaze to his, I smirk, "You want me to beg? If that'll speed things up, how do you want me?"

His cemented expression falters for a moment, yet quickly he recovers. "On your knees preferably," he mocks.

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