I think I hate you. I should. Its been engrained in me since I was born, its something I cant escape…..so why am I still standing here? Hand raised, finger poised over the trigger…..and yet unable to move. It makes me angry as I acknowledge in a remote recess of my mind that you don't have to be a pure blood to control me, it really has nothing to do with that, it's you, always has been. It hurts to look at you, it just reminds me how you've changed, how you never were what we both thought you were. It reminds me how I can't love you. The breeze rustles through your hair, lifting the strands to float, weightless, on the air. And then I can smell you, that tantalizing scent you've tempted me with for months. My jaw locks and when my eyes close and I can't see you, I have to remind my self that you're not her. And yes, I already consider you two different people, you are you, and she is the one you devoured. You sound like her too. Your voice reaches my ears and I have to open my eyes, it's easier this way. It's easier to convince myself that I'm going to pull this trigger.
I hold the gun steadier and you look at me with those sad eye's…..there the same too.
A picture of your smiling face floats to the forefront of my mind and for a moment its all I can see. I grit my teeth. I have the distinct feeling that killing you is going to feel a lot like killing myself (I hate myself for it), and yet……..
My thumb finds the safety and I pull it back.
Your voice floats through my mind, but you're not talking, it's a memory this time. A memory that I'm already trying to distance myself from, it's harder than it should be. I push it from my mind forcefully.
My hand clenches around the gun as the breeze blows softly through my hair.
