December 21, 2021
Words: Raw
"I don't want to do this anymore," a little boy cried whilst holding a handgun. He collapsed, falling to his knees and dropping the handgun.
His father comforted him, rubbing his back. Exhaling the smoke he said, "Son, we are born as killers. It is a family business. If you cannot live up to our ancestors," he cocked the gun, brandishing it towards his son. "... you know what would happen, right?"
The little boy nodded, wiping his tears with his bloodied hand.
"Good," his father said.
The father helped his son to his feet, rewarding him with a handgun. The father smiled, nodding behind his son. The son swiveled, stumbling upon a little girl bound in ropes and cloth. The little girl squirmed, attempting to loosen the tightness of the ropes. However, she lacked the strength to do so.
"Go on. We have to refine your mind after all," the father beamed, holding the shoulders of his son.
The little boy shivered. He cannot lift his arms to aim toward the girl. Impatient, the father supported his son, aiming at the head. The little boy hyperventilated, arching his finger to pull the trigger. In a flash, he closed his eyes as a ringing noise left the gun. He had done the deed once again.
"With this, you are a step closer to being prepared," the father whispered into his ear, chuckling at the end of his sentence.