You stare at the man across from you and push your thumb over the safety of your gun. You can see in his eyes the disappointment of not taking you out earlier upon hearing the click. A bead of sweat rolls down your forehead and into your eyebrow; you feel that it will soon drop down into your eye.
The metal of the gun is getting warmer in your hands, and you feel a diamond pattern from the handle, impressing itself into your palm. The trigger slides back as you squeeze your fingers, keeping it right on the threshold between life and death.
Over to your side you see a small group of people lying on the bank’s marble floor. They have their hands on their heads and look at you with large, pleading, eyes. One woman in particular catches your eye. She’s wearing a business suit and looks at you, stares into your eyes with her head cocked to the side. You feel a pain in your stomach as you look at them lying there without any control of their fate. It all rests with you and the other man.
Your attention comes back to the man in front of you. He is shaking ever so slightly. You notice that he too has some sweat running down his face. Streams of moisture wet his cheeks. He glances over to the people on the ground, and you begin thinking. How dare you. Those are my people. You have no right to look at them.
His head snaps back to you and he steadies his gun, pointing it right at your head. You raise yours, close one eye, and stare through the sights. You aim for his forehead; at this range you couldn’t miss. You can smell the remnants of old gun powder and steel emanating from the gun, and the bead of sweat in your eyebrow starts to form a droplet.
“Put down your gun and everybody here goes home safe.” The man says. “That’s what you want right?”
You take a step towards the man.
You take another step forward.
“Stay back I said!”
The man turns his eyes to the people lying on the floor. The droplet of sweat drops into your eye and you pull the trigger. Everything is quiet for a moment. The gunshot sounded like it was miles away and everything seems to move in slow motion. You lower your hands and look at the gun, a small wisp of smoke dances out of the barrel.
You over at the man and see him lying on the ground in a pool of blood. You turn towards the woman with the business suit. She is still on the floor. She’s balling.
Authors Notes: Yes this ending was supposed to be frustrating. I don’t know who you were exactly, or the other person. I did that on purpose (Hence the pun in the title). Actually this was a very experimental piece for me and I’ve always wanted to do something in 2nd person. I do think I did a pretty good job with this, but then again I also have a pretty big ego from time to time. Please let me know what you thought, good, bad or indifferent. Thanks.