Little Spy | Peter Parker ✓

[41]

THE DAY HAD COME.

It was finally the day that the plan would be put into play, and Peter Parker would fall into the hands of Inga and whoever she was working with. My big 'moment' was going to rise, where I would lure him in and spit him out into their arms so they could break him into a million pieces, leaving me to head back to Russia, victorious and a hero. He would die so I could live and shed even more blood.

At least, that was their plan; Inga already seemed sure of it. If only she knew of the pile of papers stacking up in hidden locations, or the way my heart beat faster than the largest train in the world, or the plans that crowded out any thought of listening to her. She was sure of herself, and I was sure of myself, but we couldn't be further from being on the same page.

"I can do this," I muttered to myself under my breath, hands shaking as they clenched the smooth black barrel. "I can do this. I must do this. I have to do this. There's no other way."

It wasn't about me, and it had never been. I was a foolish child in the beginning who had hope that this could benefit both of us, but that dream had been burnt out, extinguished and replaced with the cold truth of the situation. It was either him or I who would survive this and even if it cost me my life, I would choose Peter, the pure, heroic, sweet boy who just wanted to do the right thing. I had never known what the right thing was or how to do that, but it was never too late to start, according to the boy himself, and my task was hardly a difficult one. Not emotionally, at least - though, physically, there could always be difficulties. I knew what had to be done, however, and there were no strings holding me down, that time. It was going to work, even the entire world was against me.

I stole a look out of my room to where Inga sat, eyes glued to her computer screen, unaware of the tension that stood metres away. She would have no idea, I mused; the bullet could and would hit her head almost instantaneously, killing her in mere seconds done right. In a way, it would be the most humane to end her life, for she would barely feel pain before all light would fade and her body would collapse. Not that she didn't deserve a horrific death for the pain she had caused, to me and to many others. Really, she deserved a thousand deaths, and I wished to be the one to administer them to her, over and over and over again. I supposed not everyone got what was due, but such was life.

My fingers laced around the barrel, curling around the small trigger, itching to press and release the pressure. A single bullet, one stolen from the woman herself, had been locked into place hours before and had waited for the perfect opportunity to kill her. Ironically, her own weapon would be the cause of her own demise. The gun was powerful, and while it was far from the best, it would easily do the job.

My hand shook as it raised to point the weapon at her head. Perfectly poised in the exact position necessary to do my deadly job as quickly as possible, I could not hold it straight and bit back a scream of frustration at myself for being so weak. It was not that I felt remorse for killing her; the only emotion that I felt towards Inga was hatred and a deep bitter anger that resonated deep within my soul. Nor was it fear of the action, for the blood of many had sunk deep into my bones and would always haunt me and my decisions - no, I was not afraid of the idea of death. The only thing that kept me from sending the bullet towards her was the fear of messing up. If I failed, Peter would die and that blood would be staining my hands.

Still, I didn't have the luxury of doubt. I had one chance and that had to be perfect and would be perfect, as it was the only way. I owed Peter this. He deserved the life I had always dreamed of, and I would be the one to give that to him, even if it came at the biggest sacrifice one could make.

I could do this.

The trigger trembled in my fingers, urging me to release the silver bullet.