Moonlight Memory

His face twisted under the hood. 

"Hey..." A ghostly voice that belonged to no one whispered to him.

His chest tightened, and he removed his fingers from the vial. He let his arms fall and grab his weapon. He lifted them up and approached the girl with broken legs. 

As the distance between the assassin and the girl disappeared, he noticed liquid crystal streaming down her face. These poured slowly out of her eyes and glinted out speckles of light, a reflection from the moon beyond.

The sad face of the girl was replaced by a face in his own mind. This different girl had a calm sadness and was  silent as he started at her. The room around him starting sketching into a different environment, slowly being re-drawn and re-painted, into a memory of his past.

She was an assignment.

 She was his companion. 

She was his target.

 She was his friend.

She was his only connection to the outside world, the part of the world where you could feel. The part of the world, where you could be you and not a doll that couldn't feel. She was his bridge, his gate, a window he could peer through to see a shadow of what he could be. What he could've been.

But now she's gone.

 By his hand. 

A mere memory in his past. 

A memory full of regret. 

Full of longing and yearning. 

Filled with sorrow and despair,

by what he had destroyed,

in his own care.

What he could've had,

if he had saved his past.

But now this girl before him. This girl with broken legs, sprawled on the bed in front of the moon. This girl that is still alive. Being not a memory of his past, but a sign signifying his last. His last chance. To do right to the girl whose life he once denied. He grasped his dagger and left the room.

"Hey can you bring me the moon?"