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"You're not going to shoot me," she says quietly, confidently. "Now or ever."

His eyes, once bright with the innocence and happiness of youth, are now dark with confused anger.  She is trying to confuse him with her lies, he thinks. But he knows better. She had always lied, had been lying since the start.

 His hand trembles; the gun seems heavy.  He swallows and gathers his resolve. She had killed him. She had murdered his father in cold blood. Determination burns in his gaze, strengthening it, calming his trembling hand. "You're wrong," he says, his voice flat and emotionless.

 He can do this. He has to do this.

 So he aims the gun straight at her, and lets the hatred take him.

 He fires.

 Thunder shatters the silence into a million pieces, and the sound of the gunshot reverberates inside his head. He will never forget the sound.

 The sound of her death.

 Her face is shocked; she truly thought he wouldn't be able to shoot her.  But he has. Her wide eyes stare blankly into his, as a small rivulet of blood slides down the middle of her face from the small hole in the center of her forehead.

 He watches, suddenly confused, as she slowly crumples to the ground before him, a few crimson drops of her blood splattering on her silk dressing grown.

 She is still.

 Dead, he realizes, with a shock. She is really dead.

 And he had killed her.

 Strangely, he only feels a numbness. A strange numbness that holds back the horror, the guilt, the shock.  He stares at her body, and finds his thoughts only to be a confused mess.

 He had just killed Mrs. Jones.

(Alex Rider Fanfiction) Floating in the DarkWhere stories live. Discover now