Deranged Love - Hanma Shuji

Chapter 18

Hanma had asked me to kill for him.

I don't know why I was surprised, I was expecting him to tell me to kill that man, but not for him to play it like this. I was also fully aware of this need to prove myself to him, and either he was aware of it too, or he wanted to test me. I had killed once already... and it had only been easy because of the moment, because of how fast I was to dehumanize them once I had no personality to assign them. The woman I had killed had been wearing a mask, I had never talked to her, I didn't know her, it was so easy to pull the trigger.

But here.

It was different.

Because I knew Arata. I had talked to him, I had worked with him—or at least for him, he had been working at the firm for as long as I could remember and he had a reputation. After all, there wasn't one person at Silas&Sons that didn't know who he was; but that reputation was only golden among men of his caliber. Us proper people knew he was an obnoxious, salacious, flirtatious prick that remained in a position of power simply because he was "good at his job" and "he'll be retiring soon", making it useless for the firm to fire him, not that they ever really considered it in the first place. Oftentimes it had been the women who reported him that were assigned to another subsidiary in another city, because they were right, but instead of taking in their complaints, they were simply moved. Their voices were muffled, hushed. The problem was thrown under the rug so that Arata's immaculate reputation could be kept. Whatever strength it had taken the victims to come forward was then rendered futile.

Thinking about the man on his knees in front of me only gave me more reasons to shoot him dead, and yet I couldn't find the strength to do it. Hanma felt my reticence and carefully slid his arm down mine, his chest pressed against my back, "So exciting!" He whispered right next to my ear as he slowly wrapped my hand around the grip of the gun, his long finger pressing mine on the trigger just enough to place it there before letting go, "Our own little trip down memory lane." He cooed as he kissed down my jaw.

My entire body was shaking, but I only realized it upon looking at my stretched out hand that was holding the gun. I could barely keep it still, and as bad as it sounded... it was not because of adrenaline or fear. The cold was making me feel more than this dreadful action I was about to commit. "When this is done, can I go home?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper. I did not know how much longer I would be able to stand in the pouring rain, constantly feeling like dirt and filth, but I found it easier to focus on this gross feeling than on the moral conundrum going on in my mind. "We'll still need to bury him, baby." He laughed, wrapping his arms around my waist, his head now resting on my shoulders. Slowly, I brought my other hand to the gun, hoping it'll help stabilize it enough, but I was still shaking too much.

"I'm shaking." I started, but he cut me off in a matter of fact manner, "Get it together, then." "I have it together! I'm just freezing—just... help me, hold my hands, do something." To say I was more surprised by his rapid reaction than I was by his request of me killing a man was funny to say the least. But it was true. When he placed his steady hand under mine, effectively calming my trembling, he pressed his head against mine and murmured, "Make me proud, baby."

And that was enough for me.

Bang.

When the man's muffled cries died out, there was still no peace. The rain was still the loudest of us all.

Inside I felt sick, I wanted to throw up. I wanted to throw the gun away and fall to my knees, crying. I wanted to ask Hanma if he was happy, if I could go home. I wanted to get out of this grave and run away. But what my body wanted to do out of instinct, my mind compensated with all the emotions I was feeling at the same time, so I didn't move. I didn't drop the gun.