The Pianist and the Author

Later... Too late

David, and Matthew looked at each other. I looked at them. Should I move? Run? Or should I sacrifice my life? Everyone were like statues and no one dared to make a single noise.

Mrs. Silva continued her monologue.

"It's bad enough that you already killed James. He was such a helpful little slave to us. He knew pretty well how to trace his pretty little slut of an ex-girlfriend," Mrs. Silva continued to walk around me, gun still pointed firmly at my nose, "But, you know, good things must unfortunately come to an end!

"Now, you foolish little bitch Samantha, what is the password of that little phone?" Mrs. Silva kept the gun pointed at me. She kept on walking towards Samantha. Should I move? I looked at David and Matthew.

"I'm better off dead at this point! I don't even care anyway," Samantha shouted, "I'm NEVER telling you the password!"

Samantha... I'd care... Don't you know how I'd feel? I wanted to ask. I wanted to tell her. But Mrs. Silva's gun directed at me suggested that I keep my mouth closed.

"I know you don't care for your own worthless life," Mrs. Silva spat at Samantha, "But what about Beatrice's, huh?"

Samantha stared at me in complete loss of hope. I winced.

"I know your life is utterly useless and foolish. No one needs you, Samantha," Mrs. Silva continued, looking proud at our stupefied faces, "Except maybe this bitch," Mrs. Silva pointed at me, "If Beatrice goes away, you'd cry a whole sea," She started laughing. She loaded the gun, it made a click.

If she were to shoot right now, would I be able to run?

If Samantha did leak out this password of hers, what would happen? I was so confused. What was all of this even about?

"Samantha... Can you explain?" I whispered at her.

She shook her head and whispered back: "Later,"

Will there be a "later?"

Samantha started dashing towards me. Mrs. Silva pinched the trigger. I felt Samantha's head on the side of me. I fell to the ground and saw a crimson fountain.