Blood gushes out of the man's neck as soon as Mr. Sergei pulls the shears out. I watch as the light in the victim's eyes goes dull. For a second, I feel less sympathy towards his victim and more eagerness for what's about to happen. I shake my head and shudder. There's no way I'm like that. Soon, the whole floor of the shed is stained crimson. Mr. Sergei throws the man back into the garbage bag and opens the door. "Make sure no one comes in here until I return, won't you, Alexei?" He asks, closing the door of the shed behind him and walking back to his truck.
What the hell? There's no denying it anymore. Mr. Sergei's a psychopath! How long am I going to lie to myself and say that I'm safe under his care? How long is that going to work? And how long until I start to lose my mind, too? Think of nice things. Clouds, Flowers—I close my eyes and try to picture a beautiful garden. Instead, my mind shows me a garden of rotting flowers, half-eaten by bugs and stinking. What's wrong with me? Breathe, Alexei. I begin to panic and my eyes go wide. This isn't normal. I'm not normal. What's wrong with me?
My train of thought is cut off when Mr. Sergei returns with a bottle of bleach, a mop, and a bucket of water. He hands me the mop. "Get to work," Mr. Sergei orders. I comply. "I have to clean the shears and take care of the body." He leaves with the pair of shears. I scrub the floor until it looks like it did before we came along. Before I had witnessed yet another murder to the hands of Mr. Sergei. I keep thinking about peoples' eyes. Jiara's clear blue eyes. The dull, lifeless eyes of Mr. Sergei's victims. Mr. Sergei's dark, shining eyes. They all make me feel different things. I've felt some things that make me doubt whether I'm still sane or not. I feel the handle of the rifle, the sensation of staring through the scope. Breathing in and out, I remind myself it's not real. I wish it was, a voice inside of me whispers. I wish that feeling was real.
Later that night, we return to the house after grabbing dinner at a local diner. I guess he can sense that something's off because he asks me, "You've been a bit different this evening, Alexei. Everything alright?" "Yeah…." I respond. "I have a question for you," He looks up at me. "What is it?" I sigh, contemplating if this is the right decision. What happened last time scared me so much I don't even know if I'm okay anymore. However…maybe doing it more often, under his care can make that feeling go away. I guess it's worth a shot…"Can I—do you think I could try marksmanship again?" I ask. Mr. Sergei smiles. "I was just waiting for you to ask, boy," he tells me. "Glad you finally came around."