Shoot & Run [Camren]

seven.

All my life, I'd maintained a very black and white perspective on good and bad, right and wrong. The Agency was good. The Commander was good. D12 was bad. D12 were terrorists. It was this simple mindset which had enabled me to excel at my job. I'd feel no remorse after putting down a target, nor would I lose any sleep over it. Not once had I questioned The Commander's orders - not until recently. I guess I had always just assumed that I was doing the world a justice by eliminating the people who would mean it any harm.

Now, I was starting to see all the grey between the black and the white. The words good and bad no longer seemed mutually exclusive, but had instead merged into one. I didn't want to believe Rob. I wanted to hate his guts. Hate was easy. Hate had been the fuel that kept me going for years. That, and anger. But these people had cracked open my armour, and doubt was seeping in. The worst part was that every word Rob had said to me made perfect sense. His story answered questions I hadn't even thought to ask.

It was far too much to process.

That was why I ran. I was good at running away; good at avoiding reality. I knew I should probably have stayed and listened to Rob, but I couldn't bear it. The more he made sense, the less I understood. I knew there was no way I would have been able to get out of that building, and I don't think that had ever been my goal. In the end, I found myself in the bathroom. I wasn't sure how I got there, but I didn't really question it.

I approached the sinks and turned on the cold tap, letting the water slip through my fingers, before I brought my hands up and splashed my face. The cold water felt good against my flushed skin. Unfortunately, I then made the mistake of looking up. A girl I didn't recognize met my eyes. It took me a moment to realize that it was my reflection staring back at me. I took in a sharp breath.

The first thing that drew my attention was my hair. It was wild and out of place, untamed and unbrushed. My lips were pale and chapped, and my skin was void of its usual healthy colour. But it wasn't just my physical aspects that had changed. I saw a different person entirely when I looked in the mirror. The easy confidence was gone from my eyes, replaced by uncertainty and increasing suspicion.

Am I a good person?

I debated the question. If I'd asked myself that a week ago the answer would have been an unwavering yes. In light of recent events, however, the question begged a lot more consideration. For nine years of my life I'd been loyal to the very people who were now being accused of the unspeakable. Many people were dead due to my unquestionable loyalty to The Agency - who knew how many of those people were actually innocent?

You can't trust The Agency.

I should have listened. The warning signs were there, right in front of my eyes, and I chose to ignore them. My ignorance was no one's fault but my own. I guess we believe what we need to in order to keep moving forward. But I couldn't ignore this any longer, not when the truth was so blindingly obvious.

It was then that the bathroom door opened beside me. Camila. Who else?

"Alright there, Speedy? You're not going to run off again are you?" I shook my head, leaning against the sink with a sigh.

"I'm sorry I tried to kill you, Camila." Words I honestly never thought I would have to say. Camila shrugged as though I were apologizing for taking the last cookie.

"It happens." She made her way towards me, leaning against the wall adjacent to the sink. "So, you've given up on turning a blind eye, now?"

"I was never turning a blind eye." I replied, angry that she would assume I knew what was going on. "I had no idea what The Agency was capable of. If I had, I would never have stayed."