Firearms

Guilty

Four am. At the crack of dawn, she stood, cocking the .45 glock towards the enemy. Sweating, heart racing her fear of missing, she observed him staring deep into her dark big brown eyes mocking her. He could see the anxiety in her soul.

“Do it!” the strong voice inside her head stated. “He can’t get away!” She could feel  faint, cold chills down her spine. “This isn’t the way.”

She persuaded herself to walk away and to never come back. He positioned himself in a stern militan way, just waiting. She felt light headed, the room closing inward, the walls spinning. She desired this so much.

Then everything is quiet. She couldn’t even hear her own heartbeat. “Just shoot him. It’s getting late you’re wasting time!” She drove the gun proceeding to him. “I’m going to do it. I have to. Who else will?!”

BOOM! She blacked out. Everyone rushed to her.

“I didn’t pass.”

“You couldn’t shoot the manikin. You cannot receive a badge.”

She couldn’t shoot an innocent man anyway. The police force cannot be for people who own a soul.