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THIS PART WAS THE WORST.The way the carbon-black gun fit perfectly into her palm, and the way her fingers knew exactly what mechanisms needed to be pushed, pulled, and clicked. It disgusted her how automatic the process was. By the time she was done, she had no recollection of thinking. She was simply moving with no moral compass; following sinful orders.
But she couldn't stop.
This time, it was a woman in the chair. He head was bowed and her long, dark brown curls covered her face as her shoulders shook slightly. She was crying.
As Odessa watched her, she could feel the girls sobs in her own body. She paused, unable to catch her breath.
This never happened before—she always got the job done with nothing but internal hesitation as her body flowed through the motions. But this time was different. It was like she couldn't do anything but hesitate.
Squeezing her eyes shut, she swallowed her reluctance and let her selfish needs take over. Her heart ached with every stride she took toward the girl, begging herself to turn the other way. Ignoring morals had never been so hard for Odessa. With every step she found her body threatening to run away.
Her body, mind, and soul were fighting again for dominance. She couldn't think; her mind belonged to The System. She couldn't move; her body belonged to her mind. But her soul was torn—she wanted to save herself but the only way to do so was to kill the woman in the chair. She was selfish.
Or was she? Presumably, the woman did something terrible, just as the past men had. They were all crooks and corrupted politicians. But what if that's what The System wanted her to think? Even so, it wasn't a risk she was willing to take.
She was sure of her decision now, but it didn't stop the woman's sobs from possessing Odessa's entire body. It was like she was crying, except she definitely was not (though she wanted to).
With each step, she began to feel terrified for her life, as if it were her own life on the line. The feeling sent chills down her spine. Yet, she persisted.
Once in front of the woman, she put her senses to rest and let her body fall back into autopilot. No mercy. She raised the gun, her arm strong and relentless.
"You have to look at me," she said, her voice much softer than she intended. It seemed as though that no matter how hard she tried to be selfish and cold, she couldn't. Always, some part of her soul slipped and show some type of mercy. It aggravated Odessa.
Her eyes were brown like a doe's, and they tore through Odessa's soul. A familiar, heartbreaking look flooded them. Tears Odessa easily recognized flowed from her cheeks onto lips she'd bitten a thousand and one times. Every motion, every stare, every single detail of the woman; Odessa was familiar.
