Final Call for Mercy

9

Anastasia

I walked back to the table, looking back at the cameras. She was calm. Too calm. And this 'I want to be your savior bullshit'? I don't fucking buy it.

My mind was rushing with the thought of the plan, making every braincell in my brain buzz with energy. So many possible outcomes and so many variables that could influence them. Yet, with everything going on, I had two things on my mind that I couldn't shake off:

1) Ximena Guzman was a little too eager to help for my liking. A little too endeared with Nicolas for me not to find her suspicious. To find her weird. I didn't like it one bit.

2) Nicolas will be receiving a very gruesome vasectomy performed by yours truly for the way he spoke to me earlier. Me? Jealous? As if! I needed to decided whether to perform it with a spoon or a butter knife. We could adopt children, so that wasn't a problem. That's assuming the state would let us near a child.

But number one was the most pressing matter. Not to mention there were still a few things I hadn't gotten answered. I had a feeling she knew more than she was letting on and I didn't like it one bit.

And the name. The fucking name was ringing so many bells in my mind and I had no idea from where. I had never seen her in my life, so why did I feel like I know her. I hated that feeling. Ximena Guzman... Ximena Guzman... Ximena Guz-- 

My body worked on it's own accord as I stepped away from the table and sped out the room. I reached into my waistband and pulled out my gun and sprinted to the room she was held in. I could hear Nicolas and Gabriel hot on my heels, but they were too late to catch me. 

I pushed the door open, grabbing the chair Nicolas had sat on and closing the door, blocking it with the chair. As I turned around to face her, the banging on the door began. Nicolas telling me to not do anything stupid. I blocked him out, smiling innocently at Ximena Guzman.

She stared at me cautiously, eyeing the gun in my hand. As I stepped forward, she stepped back and on and on until she reached the wall. "What are you doing?" 

I lifted the gun, staring at it for a moment. Then, stared back at her as I twirled the gun in my hand, holding onto the barrel. I extended the gun to her, gesturing for her to take it. Her eyes narrowed at me, back pressing further into the wall. "What?"

"Take it," I instructed. Her eyes widened as I stepped forward. "Come on. Where's the snarky attitude now? Afraid?"

Tentatively, she reached for the gun, hand circling around the grip and pointer finger landing comfortably on the trigger. I gave her an approving nod and took a big step back, extending my arms at my sides. Ximena took a small step forward, constantly eyeing between me and the gun, a confused look on her face. 

"You hate me," I told her. "So do what you have to do."

I could see as she analyzed the situation. Looked for traps, looked for advantages. As she processed the gun in her hand and me, defenseless, in front of her. Her eyes went quickly behind me, presumably to the door and the chair blocking the door. I could see as her eyes moved around everywhere. Her thoughts were almost out loud. Is this a trap? Will I make it out alive? What is her plan and how does my decision play into it?

Ximena's eyes landed back on me, a harder look on her face. "It's unloaded. This is a trap."

I groaned, leaning into one leg and placing one hand on my hip. "Seriously? Take a second to weigh the gun. If you've ever held one in your life you'll know it's fully loaded. All sixteen bullets ready to use. Time's running."

"Then, they're blanks."

I shrugged. "Why don't you figure it out?"

Ximena raised the gun and pointed it straight at my head. I looked her in the eye, daring her to pull the trigger and shoot me. I let my casual expression drop and stared her back with the most serious, deadliest and daring expression I could. Her eyes wavered as she looked between me and the gun, rethinking her decision. Her eyes shut and she exhaled sharply before moving the gun a few inches to the right and pulling the trigger.