Angel Blood

34- Common Sins

It doesn't explain why some of us never come home. Why our family keeps decreasing despite the children Delia brings back.

She's always told me I'm too young when I ask questions, but I just turned ten yesterday. I'm ready now.

"Okay," she says, stepping back as she takes in the sight of me. "Shoulders back. Do you remember the rules?"

My fingers clench around the rough handle of the gun so it doesn't slip from the sweat coating my palms. "Posture first, then aim. Only shoot with intention."

She makes a sound of approval. "And?"

"Never put down your gun."

The corners of her lips tilt up. It lights up her face, making her smile lines crinkle in the most warm way. "Good girl," she says. "You're ready. Wait here for me."

I keep the weapon raised even as she shuts the door behind her. It only wavers when the sound of a muffled cry erupts from the room beside me.

Delia makes a peeved sound as she nudges the door open with her foot, something heavy causing her to laboriously tug at the large object that falls in line behind her.

First I spot the fingers purple with lack of oxygen. The rope that Delia pulls at wrapped tightly around their bleeding wrists. Then my eyes settle upon the swollen and blood-splattered face.

The woman doesn't make a sound as she sees me, but her eyes still narrow as she takes in the gun poised in my hand. She barely even acknowledges the fact that it's aimed directly at her head.

I take a shuddering breath. "Delia?"

Delia drops the woman's wrist so she lays flat against the floor, letting her struggle to curl into a ball over her bound limbs and glare weakly at us. "Yes, little one?"

My arms weakly drop back to my side as I avoid the murderous look upon the beaten woman's face. "What's going on?"

"Arms back up," Delia snaps. When I don't follow suit, she impatiently strides forward and grabs my wrists, forcing them back in line with my shoulders.

I wince as her long nails bite into my skin. "I don't—"

"This isn't about what you want," she says, then adjusts my finger so it lays across the trigger again. My heart beats so fast it feels like it's going to explode from my chest. "This is about what you were born to do." She clicks off the safety. "Shoot."

I try to take a step back but her grip holds me firmly in place. The woman glares steadily at the weapon in my tiny hands, tears cutting through the dried rust-colored liquid upon her cheeks.

"Please," she whispers.

The gun trembles in my hand. Blood roils in my ears, my lungs squeezing as if I'm drowning with every inhale.

"Now," Delia murmurs lowly.

I shake my head. For a moment, the woman looks nearly relieved, but then Delia's finger settles back upon mine.

I squeeze my eyes shut as she presses down. The shot rings in my ears, the warm splattering of liquid across my face telling that my bullet has hit true.

I swallow the sob that rises in my throat as Delia takes my chin in her fingers and tilts my head in line with hers. I crack a hesitate eye, feeling the tickle of tears rolling down my cheeks as she smiles at me.

Her smile lines crinkle again, making her warm brown eyes something close to comforting. I try not to focus on the droplets of crimson that dot her sunshine-colored hair, letting her stroke my small cheek in her gentle hand as she whispers soft praises in my ear.