"Thank you very much, that was exactly what I needed."
Was it? Because it was the last thing I wanted to say. I wanted to tell him the truth, for the first and last time, and then fight the battle from there, honestly. I'm sick of all the lying. I always thought that if I ever told Sam the truth, it would all just stop. It never crossed my mind that he'd be an assassin like me, and that this whole mess would happen. I trusted him more than I trusted myself.
I didn't trust myself, at all. I still don't. Not when what I say and what I feel are completely opposites. What kind of person am I?
A killer, that's all.
"I'll see you at the house."
I disconnected and dropped my phone onto the passenger seat, trying not to think about it. I've blocked out enough information in the past, there's no reason why I can't do it now. I really have to now. Whether Sam meant what he said or not, one of us has to die.
I don't plan on it being me.
I turned off, hitting a red light just before our street, and had to wait while the son of a bitch in front of me stopped at it. Normally I would go around, but there was a mailbox, and I think that guy likes down the block, so I opted to wait, and hit the gas the second he started moving. I turned onto our street just as Sam came up from the other side.
Offensive driving time.
I drove my car into his, giving myself room to get up the driveway before him, park half across the grass, and race into the house. I grabbed the AR-15 out of the oven and waited.
Alright, on the street. Finally. Let's get moving.
I hit the gas, and looked over at the driveway, fully expecting to see Carly already there. But she wasn't. What the hell... Where is she? I must've been moving faster than I thou--
God damn it, I'm really going to kill her.
"Bitch!" I yelled when her car slammed into mine, and she pulled in before I could go after her. "God damn irrtating little..." I sped up, pulling in just behind her car, and watched her run into the house. Shit, and eveything's out of the shed.
Well, aside from some more basic kind of weapons, but they don't match up to a freakin' gun.
I pulled in and bolted to the shed, grabbing the garden rake off of the shelf before I looked out to see where she was. When I didn't see her, I moved around, checking in the windows around the front to see if she was there. Nothing.
"Hey Sam, you alright?"
I looked over to see Greg coming out of his garage. Oh what the hell. "Hey Greg, yeah, everything's fine." I put up a smile, and glanced inside the house again.
"Locked out?"
"Yep!"
"Okay. Good luck getting in, let me know if you need help!"
"Thanks a lot Greg!" Get out of here, jackass. I waited until he left before getting in the front door, and looked around for Carly. Then I bolted for the Battleship painting, and hit a button underneath, listening for Carly and waiting for the damn compartment to open up so I could get my guns in there.
I took them out and checked both, before putting one in the back of my pants and keeping the other ready as I looked around for her.
Come on, sweetheart, show yourself. Let's get this done.
Okay, I'm in a good place. I'm on the stairwell. I can see everything at a decent angle here without exposing myself. In the time it would take Sam to check and see if I'm hiding here, I could get in at least two or three good shots. I don't even need two or three. One would slow him down. If I needed to finish the job after that, I could accurately gauge the situation based on where the wound was.
This is a good position to be in. I can go up or down, left or right. And I'm covered. I'm covered and ready to kill my husband.
I heard him enter the house through the back and crouched down, waiting for him to find me. When he gets close enough, I'll go for it. Not a second before, and none of that overthinking crap I did before. This is simple. All I have to do is shoot him without thinking about who I'm shooting.
It shouldn't be too difficult, I do that all the time. If I ever stopped to think about the victim, I'd second guess the kill. Leaving emotion out of this is the only way to go, at all times.
Sam's footsteps alerted me to the fact that he was moving towards me, and I looked in the mirror to find his reflection. He's close. Two more steps. One. And...
I let loose, taking four or five shots in his direction. The sound of the bullets hitting and ruining the furniture masked any sound he might have made if I'd hit him.
Now I have to figure out if I did, damnit. Because if I missed, Sam's waiting for me.
Shit, gunfire. Fucking... She's in the stairs?! Well aren't we just all get out sneaky? Pulling out all the damn stops, aren't we Car? God damn it!
I moved, ducking out of the gunfire as much as I could, and prayed I wouldn't get hit with a bullet this God damn early in the game. I got around the wall and into the living room, and listened while I waited for some kind of movement.
I so freakin' need to take a shot at this bitch. Now. I'd hope for a clearer one, but where I am isn't giving me much more than cover.
Which is really really pissing me off.
Need something... Picture frame. One of our old vacation photos. God, that place was hell. I grabbed it and tried to get a reflection of exactly where she was on the stairs.
... There you are, sweetheart.
I leaned around and let off a few shots, hoping to get her, and then ducked down behind the wall again, and watched a hole get blown in the wall right next to me.
I fucking hate him. I never knew he was such a good goddamn shot. He gave me plenty of time to get out of the way when he had a widowmaker to use on me, but suddenly he's good with a gun?
What the hell did I ever see in him anyway?!
I got up and headed down to the other side of the staircase so that I could still use it for cover. After he stopped shooting at me for a few seconds, I fired back, tearing out pieces of the wall with the gunfire, shard of glass and wood flying everywhere, and since I couldn't exactly see or hear him anymore, I might have gotten him.
I doubt Sam would ever make it this easy on me, but who knows, maybe he slipped in his stupid shoes.
"You still alive, baby?"
It doesn't hurt to ask. I mean, I'm not exactly expecting him to answer if he's not, and I doubt he'd give away his location and say he wasn't if he survived, but why not?
For a split second, I almost answered her. I was just pissed enough to do it. Rattle off some smart comeback, and give away my position. Yeah, that's really what I need right now.
Instead, I chose to go with something else. It might work, might not. She's just full of herself to probably by it.
I let out a groan like I'd been shot -- nothing new to me, since that last time I was shot a while back I did make a similar noise, but recreating the thing was kind of freakin' degrading, just a little -- and pretended to drop my gun.
I can hear her moving. She fell for it? Who the hell still falls for that?
Moving to the hole in the wall after I heard her touch down on the bottom step on the staircase, I shot at her again, moving out of the way once her fire came back at me.
Shit, I knew he was screwing with me again, he had to be. Sam's favorite past time happens to be screwing me. That's all he's being doing lately. No, actually, if you want to count the act, he screwed with me for our entire marriage. And all of the dating that led up the marriage? Screwing with me too. The only thing that doesn't entirely count is what happened in Rio De Janeiro, and the only reason why that doesn't is because he was too busy screwing me to be screwing with me.
And I'd like to kill him for it, right now.
I heard him start to move towards me and slide across the hallway on my knees, staying down, and then tried to position myself for a few good shots while he fired back at me. He turned at started for the kitchen when I shot back at him, and I reloaded before I moved after him.
A teapot, are you fucking serious?
I did marry a pussy.
I started shooting at the wall in front of him on princple for that one.
I moved down the hallway, getting close to rounding the corner so I could finally get at Carly when she slid across the floor on her knees looking like a freakin' psychotic Rambo. There wasn't any time to react, so I just returned fire.
Naturally, there was too much crap flying for me to actually hit her. What the hell is that? I want to get this bitch killed already, damn it.
Kitchen. There's gotta be something to use in there. I turned and bolted, and then stopped when I realized I'd almost knocked her idiotic teapot off the damn shelf. I tried to catch it without making any noise, and just got it.
... And then the cover fell off.
I sighed inwardly and winced when I heard the glass shatter.
I hate that thing.
Dropping it the second Carly's shot ripped through the wall at me, I fired back through and ran for the kitchen, going behind the fridge door for cover.
... Strong metal my ass. That's the last time I buy from that store. I knew they were trying to cheat me out of getting something better when I bought that fridge.
I fell on my back and slid backwards, firing at Carly as I went behind the counter. I need something, where the hell is a good sharp object when you need it?
Butcher knife. I love those.
I grabbed it and whipped it at her, while trying to figure out what to do next.
"You're cooking's just as bad as your aim, baby." I called while I heard her reloading, and noticed a gas tube that I could use from behind the stove. I whipped it out and held it in her direction.
You're cooking's just as bad as your aim, baby. And that's really saying something."
That dumbass. He still thinks it was my cooking? The only thing I ever made for him were cookies, and that's because I never had time to do anything better. Before we were married, I cooked all the time. And I was damn good at it. Maybe my cooking is as good as my aim and he'll never get the chance to know.
I took another shot and saw flames shooting up out of god knows where, then ducked because it was really in my best interest to keep from dying accidently while my husband was trying to kill me.
Okay, no more guns. We don't need the guns now. He set our kitchen on fire, shooting isn't going to work, and I'm almost out anyway so I don't want to have to use it unless I have to finish it off.
I saw Sam come in, and launched a kick at his stomach in a way that must have been getting familiar with him, then started taking any punch, kick, or just plain smack I could get.
I'm getting really sick of that kick. Doesn't she have anything better to do than kick like that? After a while, I'm going to stop feeling it!
... Alright, maybe not, but whatever.
All I know is, the whole image of Carly as a woman who wasn't the enemy was just gone. I was so pissed I went for everything, screw the whole thing about not hitting a woman. If the woman's going to try to kill you, you go ahead and try to freakin' kill her back. It doesn't hold to do the 'right thing' if it means getting a bullet in the head.
The adrenaline was going so much I wasn't feeling some of the blows she kept laying on me. I just kept going. This is what they trained us for, right? Keep going.
I'll be going until this bitch is dead at this rate.
The next thing I know, we're in another room, and I hit her and then shoved her back into the glass cabinet behind her, and grinned when it shattered.
"Come on baby." I got ready for the next one. "Come to Daddy."
Don't tell me you're getting tired. I'm just getting warmed up.
Cocky much? Cocky with no reason to be when I'm keeping up with you almost blow for blow? I think Sam needs to get his brain reorganized. Lucky for him, I know exactly how to do that.
I grabbed the first thing I could find, which just so happened to be made of metal, and smacked him across the face with it. I picked up one of the towels that had blown out of the kitchen, pulled his head down with it, and headbutted him. Then I decided to return the favor on the cabinent thing, since he's so fond of that kind of movement.
"Who's your Daddy now?"
I almost hate myself for saying it. Sam thought he was some tough macho wise guy when he said it to me, which makes me realize he really fucking deserves it, but come on, what a life. I'd never use that line if I wasn't so busy trying to kill my husband. Usually I can come up with better, more original things. When the victim isn't personal or a wiseass.
... Okay, world's spinning now, and that definitely hurt. What the hell did she just hit me with... I think that was one of my trophies. She hit me with one of my trophies?!
I tried to get my vision straight again so I could do something about it, and then I've got her headbutting me smack into the glass cabinet on the other side of the room.
"Who's your Daddy now?"
Oh that's cute Car.
When I can see, you are so going to die for that.
I got up, trying to get myself steady while still fighting her. I grabbed her by the hair and shoved her out of the room we were in, and into the living room, going after her as my vision started to straighten out and jumping on her, throwing every punch I could get in.
And then the couch flips over.
There's another item I got screwed over with at the store... Wait, no. I think she bought this one.
Good, a piece of crap bought that wasn't my fault then.
I got him off of me and jumped up, giving hits and punches and taking them back every once in a while, and when I got upset enough, I started kicking. One was a pretty damn low blow, but he deserved it. He tried to kill me, so he deserved it.
It's not like he uses that part of his anatomy anymore, anyway.
I started hitting harder when I realized how much I hate him for this. I wanted to get married, he wanted to use. I tried to be the type of woman who would make him happy without getting anyone killed, he turns around and does an equally sucky charade, and blames it on me. I loved him for a long time, but then I found out it was all a lie. For that, I hate him. He really did ruin everything by approaching me in the first place.
I wish we were never married. That we never got back together. I wish I'd never taken that job in Rio so that I never would have had the opportunity to bump into him and set up the chain of events that led to this. And I think he should pay for it, with his life.
That's exactly while I'm kicking him, and why I can't stop. It's even why I think I'm doing it faster now than I was before. Because I hate him more than I thought I did. I never gave myself credit for it before. Now I realize, one of us really does have to die so that the other can be happy.
Okay, maybe I'm not the only one with rage issues here. That really hurts, no matter how much adrenaline I have going here. And kicking there is so not freakin' right. I still have feeling there, miraculously, even after all she's put me through. Low blow, god damn it.
And she's up, and kicking me, and I'm doing everything I can to block it so I can get a straight shot and get her down again. The problem is, a guy can take only so many kicks to the chest and stomach, and a couple in the face, and still keep a good fight.
Good to know we're not above taking advantage when our opponent is down. Honor goes right out the window with you, doesn't it Car?
... Yeah, I've got no room to talk.
But if that's the way she wants to play it? By all means.
I started protecting myself with one arm, and whipped my fist up, socking her straight in the stomach. I shoved her down, getting up a little unsteadily and giving her a few good kicks in return for everything she just did to me.
And this is for lying to me!
And this is for being such a crazy bitch!
And this is for every single time you tried to kill me!
This is starting to wear on me, god damnit, and I'm not about to give in. No way. No fucking way am I letting Sam Howell, who never ever would have stood a chance against me in high school, kill me now. Nevermind the fact that every muscle I have is killing me. I don't care. Just like I don't care that I can hardly catch my breath, because he's looking the same way right now. In fact, he's just as busy trying to compose himself as I am, if not more. Now's the time to act. If I want to live, now is the time to fucking act.
I looked over at Sam, figuring that he was getting the same idea I had, and wents for my gun. The bastard had to go for his at the same time, and when we got on our feet we both pulled out our weapons at the same time, pointing them at each others heads.
Well, great. Now what?
I can't really shoot him without him shooting me back. So either I have to disarm him, or pull the trigger and hope. I'm not big on that idea, but I'll do it if I have to. It all depends on how far he'll push.
Need to get up again. Need to get the hell up again now, no matter how much pain I'm in. The second I stop fighting, she kills me, and that just can't work. It's not even over the idea of dying, it's over the idea that she would have killed me. I'd like to leave behind some sort of a good reputation.
I got up, and glanced at where my gun was, and Carly's was close to it. Then I looked back to Carly. She's going to do the same thing.
I jumped over the couch at the same time she did, rolling to my gun and getting up quickly, aiming it at her. And she has her gun too. Which I know is still loaded, just like mine is.
Did this have to go Mexican stand off this fast? It's not like I can pull the trigger now without getting shot myself. What the hell do we do now?
I stared at her, waiting for her to make a move, and getting the idea she was waiting on the same thing. Either that or trying to figure out what the hell to do herself.
Screw it, I'm just going to pull the damn trigger and hope for the best. If I go down, at least she went down with me. That's better than my dying and her living.
My finger tensed on the trigger, just about to pull, when...
I stopped.
I stopped because I was making the stupid move. I was looking at her eyes. Up until now, that didn't make a difference, but now when I could end it all right here, probably for both of us, it makes a difference.
I'm seeing all sorts of things that are throwing me off. The girl I knew from high school that I fell hard for the first second I saw her. The woman in Rio, the one that made me fall for her all over again. The woman I married, at least the one from when we first started out. The woman I flat out couldn't get enough of.
Still can't.
So help me, even after all this insane bullshit, after all the gun shots and the bombs... I still love her.
I shook my head, and lowered my gun finally. "I can't do it."
I can't take the shot. I don't want to die here, not like this, but I can't take this shot.
Was it? Because it was the last thing I wanted to say. I wanted to tell him the truth, for the first and last time, and then fight the battle from there, honestly. I'm sick of all the lying. I always thought that if I ever told Sam the truth, it would all just stop. It never crossed my mind that he'd be an assassin like me, and that this whole mess would happen. I trusted him more than I trusted myself.
I didn't trust myself, at all. I still don't. Not when what I say and what I feel are completely opposites. What kind of person am I?
A killer, that's all.
"I'll see you at the house."
I disconnected and dropped my phone onto the passenger seat, trying not to think about it. I've blocked out enough information in the past, there's no reason why I can't do it now. I really have to now. Whether Sam meant what he said or not, one of us has to die.
I don't plan on it being me.
I turned off, hitting a red light just before our street, and had to wait while the son of a bitch in front of me stopped at it. Normally I would go around, but there was a mailbox, and I think that guy likes down the block, so I opted to wait, and hit the gas the second he started moving. I turned onto our street just as Sam came up from the other side.
Offensive driving time.
I drove my car into his, giving myself room to get up the driveway before him, park half across the grass, and race into the house. I grabbed the AR-15 out of the oven and waited.
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I hit the gas, and looked over at the driveway, fully expecting to see Carly already there. But she wasn't. What the hell... Where is she? I must've been moving faster than I thou--
God damn it, I'm really going to kill her.
"Bitch!" I yelled when her car slammed into mine, and she pulled in before I could go after her. "God damn irrtating little..." I sped up, pulling in just behind her car, and watched her run into the house. Shit, and eveything's out of the shed.
Well, aside from some more basic kind of weapons, but they don't match up to a freakin' gun.
I pulled in and bolted to the shed, grabbing the garden rake off of the shelf before I looked out to see where she was. When I didn't see her, I moved around, checking in the windows around the front to see if she was there. Nothing.
"Hey Sam, you alright?"
I looked over to see Greg coming out of his garage. Oh what the hell. "Hey Greg, yeah, everything's fine." I put up a smile, and glanced inside the house again.
"Locked out?"
"Yep!"
"Okay. Good luck getting in, let me know if you need help!"
"Thanks a lot Greg!" Get out of here, jackass. I waited until he left before getting in the front door, and looked around for Carly. Then I bolted for the Battleship painting, and hit a button underneath, listening for Carly and waiting for the damn compartment to open up so I could get my guns in there.
I took them out and checked both, before putting one in the back of my pants and keeping the other ready as I looked around for her.
Come on, sweetheart, show yourself. Let's get this done.
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This is a good position to be in. I can go up or down, left or right. And I'm covered. I'm covered and ready to kill my husband.
I heard him enter the house through the back and crouched down, waiting for him to find me. When he gets close enough, I'll go for it. Not a second before, and none of that overthinking crap I did before. This is simple. All I have to do is shoot him without thinking about who I'm shooting.
It shouldn't be too difficult, I do that all the time. If I ever stopped to think about the victim, I'd second guess the kill. Leaving emotion out of this is the only way to go, at all times.
Sam's footsteps alerted me to the fact that he was moving towards me, and I looked in the mirror to find his reflection. He's close. Two more steps. One. And...
I let loose, taking four or five shots in his direction. The sound of the bullets hitting and ruining the furniture masked any sound he might have made if I'd hit him.
Now I have to figure out if I did, damnit. Because if I missed, Sam's waiting for me.
And he's pissed.
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Shit, gunfire. Fucking... She's in the stairs?! Well aren't we just all get out sneaky? Pulling out all the damn stops, aren't we Car? God damn it!
I moved, ducking out of the gunfire as much as I could, and prayed I wouldn't get hit with a bullet this God damn early in the game. I got around the wall and into the living room, and listened while I waited for some kind of movement.
I so freakin' need to take a shot at this bitch. Now. I'd hope for a clearer one, but where I am isn't giving me much more than cover.
Which is really really pissing me off.
Need something... Picture frame. One of our old vacation photos. God, that place was hell. I grabbed it and tried to get a reflection of exactly where she was on the stairs.
... There you are, sweetheart.
I leaned around and let off a few shots, hoping to get her, and then ducked down behind the wall again, and watched a hole get blown in the wall right next to me.
That was close...
I really hate her right now.
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What the hell did I ever see in him anyway?!
I got up and headed down to the other side of the staircase so that I could still use it for cover. After he stopped shooting at me for a few seconds, I fired back, tearing out pieces of the wall with the gunfire, shard of glass and wood flying everywhere, and since I couldn't exactly see or hear him anymore, I might have gotten him.
I doubt Sam would ever make it this easy on me, but who knows, maybe he slipped in his stupid shoes.
"You still alive, baby?"
It doesn't hurt to ask. I mean, I'm not exactly expecting him to answer if he's not, and I doubt he'd give away his location and say he wasn't if he survived, but why not?
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For a split second, I almost answered her. I was just pissed enough to do it. Rattle off some smart comeback, and give away my position. Yeah, that's really what I need right now.
Instead, I chose to go with something else. It might work, might not. She's just full of herself to probably by it.
I let out a groan like I'd been shot -- nothing new to me, since that last time I was shot a while back I did make a similar noise, but recreating the thing was kind of freakin' degrading, just a little -- and pretended to drop my gun.
I can hear her moving. She fell for it? Who the hell still falls for that?
Moving to the hole in the wall after I heard her touch down on the bottom step on the staircase, I shot at her again, moving out of the way once her fire came back at me.
That's right baby, you're not done yet.
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And I'd like to kill him for it, right now.
I heard him start to move towards me and slide across the hallway on my knees, staying down, and then tried to position myself for a few good shots while he fired back at me. He turned at started for the kitchen when I shot back at him, and I reloaded before I moved after him.
A teapot, are you fucking serious?
I did marry a pussy.
I started shooting at the wall in front of him on princple for that one.
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I moved down the hallway, getting close to rounding the corner so I could finally get at Carly when she slid across the floor on her knees looking like a freakin' psychotic Rambo. There wasn't any time to react, so I just returned fire.
Naturally, there was too much crap flying for me to actually hit her. What the hell is that? I want to get this bitch killed already, damn it.
Kitchen. There's gotta be something to use in there. I turned and bolted, and then stopped when I realized I'd almost knocked her idiotic teapot off the damn shelf. I tried to catch it without making any noise, and just got it.
... And then the cover fell off.
I sighed inwardly and winced when I heard the glass shatter.
I hate that thing.
Dropping it the second Carly's shot ripped through the wall at me, I fired back through and ran for the kitchen, going behind the fridge door for cover.
... Strong metal my ass. That's the last time I buy from that store. I knew they were trying to cheat me out of getting something better when I bought that fridge.
I fell on my back and slid backwards, firing at Carly as I went behind the counter. I need something, where the hell is a good sharp object when you need it?
Butcher knife. I love those.
I grabbed it and whipped it at her, while trying to figure out what to do next.
"You're cooking's just as bad as your aim, baby." I called while I heard her reloading, and noticed a gas tube that I could use from behind the stove. I whipped it out and held it in her direction.
"And that's really saying something."
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That dumbass. He still thinks it was my cooking? The only thing I ever made for him were cookies, and that's because I never had time to do anything better. Before we were married, I cooked all the time. And I was damn good at it. Maybe my cooking is as good as my aim and he'll never get the chance to know.
I took another shot and saw flames shooting up out of god knows where, then ducked because it was really in my best interest to keep from dying accidently while my husband was trying to kill me.
Okay, no more guns. We don't need the guns now. He set our kitchen on fire, shooting isn't going to work, and I'm almost out anyway so I don't want to have to use it unless I have to finish it off.
I saw Sam come in, and launched a kick at his stomach in a way that must have been getting familiar with him, then started taking any punch, kick, or just plain smack I could get.
This will be over tonight.
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... Alright, maybe not, but whatever.
All I know is, the whole image of Carly as a woman who wasn't the enemy was just gone. I was so pissed I went for everything, screw the whole thing about not hitting a woman. If the woman's going to try to kill you, you go ahead and try to freakin' kill her back. It doesn't hold to do the 'right thing' if it means getting a bullet in the head.
The adrenaline was going so much I wasn't feeling some of the blows she kept laying on me. I just kept going. This is what they trained us for, right? Keep going.
I'll be going until this bitch is dead at this rate.
The next thing I know, we're in another room, and I hit her and then shoved her back into the glass cabinet behind her, and grinned when it shattered.
"Come on baby." I got ready for the next one. "Come to Daddy."
Don't tell me you're getting tired. I'm just getting warmed up.
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Cocky much? Cocky with no reason to be when I'm keeping up with you almost blow for blow? I think Sam needs to get his brain reorganized. Lucky for him, I know exactly how to do that.
I grabbed the first thing I could find, which just so happened to be made of metal, and smacked him across the face with it. I picked up one of the towels that had blown out of the kitchen, pulled his head down with it, and headbutted him. Then I decided to return the favor on the cabinent thing, since he's so fond of that kind of movement.
"Who's your Daddy now?"
I almost hate myself for saying it. Sam thought he was some tough macho wise guy when he said it to me, which makes me realize he really fucking deserves it, but come on, what a life. I'd never use that line if I wasn't so busy trying to kill my husband. Usually I can come up with better, more original things. When the victim isn't personal or a wiseass.
I need him dead, now.
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I tried to get my vision straight again so I could do something about it, and then I've got her headbutting me smack into the glass cabinet on the other side of the room.
"Who's your Daddy now?"
Oh that's cute Car.
When I can see, you are so going to die for that.
I got up, trying to get myself steady while still fighting her. I grabbed her by the hair and shoved her out of the room we were in, and into the living room, going after her as my vision started to straighten out and jumping on her, throwing every punch I could get in.
And then the couch flips over.
There's another item I got screwed over with at the store... Wait, no. I think she bought this one.
Good, a piece of crap bought that wasn't my fault then.
Just like the damn curtains.
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It's not like he uses that part of his anatomy anymore, anyway.
I started hitting harder when I realized how much I hate him for this. I wanted to get married, he wanted to use. I tried to be the type of woman who would make him happy without getting anyone killed, he turns around and does an equally sucky charade, and blames it on me. I loved him for a long time, but then I found out it was all a lie. For that, I hate him. He really did ruin everything by approaching me in the first place.
I wish we were never married. That we never got back together. I wish I'd never taken that job in Rio so that I never would have had the opportunity to bump into him and set up the chain of events that led to this. And I think he should pay for it, with his life.
That's exactly while I'm kicking him, and why I can't stop. It's even why I think I'm doing it faster now than I was before. Because I hate him more than I thought I did. I never gave myself credit for it before. Now I realize, one of us really does have to die so that the other can be happy.
And it'll be him. He has it coming.
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And she's up, and kicking me, and I'm doing everything I can to block it so I can get a straight shot and get her down again. The problem is, a guy can take only so many kicks to the chest and stomach, and a couple in the face, and still keep a good fight.
Good to know we're not above taking advantage when our opponent is down. Honor goes right out the window with you, doesn't it Car?
... Yeah, I've got no room to talk.
But if that's the way she wants to play it? By all means.
I started protecting myself with one arm, and whipped my fist up, socking her straight in the stomach. I shoved her down, getting up a little unsteadily and giving her a few good kicks in return for everything she just did to me.
And this is for lying to me!
And this is for being such a crazy bitch!
And this is for every single time you tried to kill me!
And this is for...
... Fuck, that hurt.
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I looked over at Sam, figuring that he was getting the same idea I had, and wents for my gun. The bastard had to go for his at the same time, and when we got on our feet we both pulled out our weapons at the same time, pointing them at each others heads.
Well, great. Now what?
I can't really shoot him without him shooting me back. So either I have to disarm him, or pull the trigger and hope. I'm not big on that idea, but I'll do it if I have to. It all depends on how far he'll push.
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I got up, and glanced at where my gun was, and Carly's was close to it. Then I looked back to Carly. She's going to do the same thing.
I jumped over the couch at the same time she did, rolling to my gun and getting up quickly, aiming it at her. And she has her gun too. Which I know is still loaded, just like mine is.
Did this have to go Mexican stand off this fast? It's not like I can pull the trigger now without getting shot myself. What the hell do we do now?
I stared at her, waiting for her to make a move, and getting the idea she was waiting on the same thing. Either that or trying to figure out what the hell to do herself.
Screw it, I'm just going to pull the damn trigger and hope for the best. If I go down, at least she went down with me. That's better than my dying and her living.
My finger tensed on the trigger, just about to pull, when...
I stopped.
I stopped because I was making the stupid move. I was looking at her eyes. Up until now, that didn't make a difference, but now when I could end it all right here, probably for both of us, it makes a difference.
I'm seeing all sorts of things that are throwing me off. The girl I knew from high school that I fell hard for the first second I saw her. The woman in Rio, the one that made me fall for her all over again. The woman I married, at least the one from when we first started out. The woman I flat out couldn't get enough of.
Still can't.
So help me, even after all this insane bullshit, after all the gun shots and the bombs... I still love her.
I shook my head, and lowered my gun finally. "I can't do it."
I can't take the shot. I don't want to die here, not like this, but I can't take this shot.
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