Not If I Save You First

seven | target practice

My black sweater hugs the curves of my body, because daily training always has me covered in bruises. If normal people saw me without long sleeves on, they would think I'm in an abusive relationship. The last thing I need is people pointing out my bruises. I may be impeccable with combat training, but others in my organization are just as good.

I didn't empty the full clip onto the target, but I intentionally missed a few shots.

"You're up," I exclaimed, unable to hear under the headphones. I rested my headphones on my shoulders, and Archer lowered his also. "Unleash your anger. Don't worry about accuracy. Take a deep breath and picture the target as everything you've been feeling guilty about."

I adjusted Archer's stance and helped him to be ready for the bang of the gun.

My dad used to say something interesting to me.

There is no terror in the bang, only in the anticipation of it.

It wasn't until a few years later, did I figure out that my dad stole that saying from Alfred Hitchcock.

Grayson and I watched a marathon of Alfred Hitchcock movies to try and find the meaning of that quote. Mom and dad used to give Grayson and I small quizzes and mental tests in order for us to practice our deductive reasoning skills. We had all the means in the world of completing our test.

Grayson used to use technology to complete his assignments. He would devour himself in research. My big brother wouldn't open his mouth on a topic, before he had read every single thing about that topic.

Me. I used to use brute force and strength for most tests.

Archer pulled the trigger. His eyes tightly shut from the loud bang and the deep pull back of the gun.

"Was it that bad?" Archer asked, shouting over his headphones.

"It was an interesting tactic," I said.

Poor Archer. He didn't hit anywhere near the target.

He doesn't have any way of protecting himself if he needed to. I don't want to say that anything would happen to Archer, but the police have no leads on where his parents could be. The agency is looking into all angles, but it's mainly me. I'm the only person working to find his parents.

"Interesting usually means terrible," he said.

Archer and I did more target practice. He got better as time went on, but we were wasting a lot of ammunition.

Emptying the clip onto the target, I forgot that Archer doesn't know I'm trained to shoot weapons. I trained to be a sniper for a year but waiting patiently on a roof looking through the eyepiece wasn't my favorite way to do a stakeout. I gave up on training. 

Archer and I took a walk to a nearby frozen yogurt shop. I know that Archer is not the biggest fan of sweets, so frozen yogurt seemed fitting. I could get my unhealthy serving of chocolate ice cream, and Archer could get something fruit flavored if he wanted.

A normal person would come to believe that Archer and I are on an unconventional first date.

What kind of date brings him to a shooting range?

For me, a great one.

"I'm sorry for such an unconventional evening," I said, shoveling chocolate ice cream down my throat.

"Don't be. It's been two months since I've been able to smile like that. You miraculously showed up in my life when I really needed it," Archer said.

"What do you want to do after college?" I asked.