"I envy your conviction."
Just words, but coming from Nny, it was the rarest of compliments. Before Edgar could say anything about it, his eyes wandered instinctively at the yellow pale of Nny's hand. Edgar blanched as those fingers reached for the trigger. Before the trigger was pulled, however, an even rarer event occurred. Their eyes met for the last time. Nny was almost captivated, by this man, by this total lack of social dignity, but he saw something more. He couldn't place what.
Nny's eyes could say so much more, but it was hidden behind thick layers of anger and confusion, blood and misled justice, acquired through many, many years, hard to dissolve.
Nny, for the slightest of moments, hesitated. The only light that was in the room seemed to hit Edgar in such a way, in such a way...
He was hazy for not another moment, and let his body go on autopilot.
Reality collapsed and splattered in a mess of fresh blood and flesh and glass.
Nny surprised himself in feeling nothing at the result, not a twinge of any emotion distinguishable.
Nny looked at the gore and forgot about why he needed it in the first place.
He turned and went to attend his other victims. Or villains, depending on your point of view.
I envy your conviction...
Sometimes he wished he had such.
He really wanted a brain freezy all of a sudden and to the great relief of a horribly dismayed man, tightly bound at the ankles, hanging from the ceiling, Nny went upstairs to the house. But then again, he really wanted to cut that rope and watch that man fall, he had set up a nice dagger pit and everything. Ah, hell, he needed a pick me up, and he was hungry. But then, something terrible happened, feelings.
Edgar Vargas had really gotten to him, and it was dead on, no pun intended. Something about the way he looked just before he died, something about the way he looked at him, something. He could not ignore it nor mask it.
He knew he couldn't feel anything for a dead man. And yet, a wave of uncertainty, of himself and his motives, slipped menacingly into his conscious.
So much so, he didn't understand half of the thoughts that swarmed his mind, like viscous locusts eating away at the logic for which he defended himself, the reasoning as to why he pulled that trigger.
Laziness? Poor judgment? The man had nothing, as he said. He wouldn't be missed.
Maybe he would've been something. Maybe, to Nny.
your conviction.
in such a way... it almost gave him
Hope