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THE EMPTINESS of the shooting range helps Ellie's thoughts. It's 4 AM. Her nightmares had her up in a cold sweat. She tried making tea like Ghost did and it was crap. So now she's got her gun propped and is practicing her long-range shots. Also crap.
She thinks she's cursed. She's never been able to figure it out. Close range, all day. No issue. These stupid rifles, however... she's had enough. Failure isn't something Ellie likes. When she sucks at something, it burns her up inside. She's leaned down into the scope, eyeing the target as she sighs heavily. Something shifts in the air and her head whips around to look behind her.
Ghost is standing there silent. She hadn't even heard him come in.
"Your stance is all wrong."
Her mouth falls slightly open. "Hello to you, too." She grimaces and turns back to the scope. "My stance is just fine, thanks."
"Your legs aren't near as wide enough."
The sentence makes her cheeks burn, and Ellie turns back to him again. "I'm doing fine."
His eyes flicker to the target. Sporadic holes litter it. Some are on the wall. "Target says otherwise."
She huffs and moves away from the gun. "Okay, smart guy. Are you willing to give me advice on how to be a better shot?" she hisses.
"I'll give you advice when it comes to you being a liability," he replies bluntly.
"A liability?" she scoffs. "I am not a liability."
"Get back on the gun," he orders, stepping closer to her. She does what he commands and soon she feels him right beside her. "Are you even aiming down sights?" he asks, sounding fed up. "Lower your head."
She listens. Her fingers are gripped tight around the gun. As much as she wants to be mad, she finds her cheeks flushed from a different emotion altogether.
"Legs. Spread them." She shuffles and he sighs angrily, using his large, boot-clad feet to lightly kick hers further apart. "You're in control of your weapon. Remember that." He's closer now. "Aim down sights."
She looks through the scope. "Like this?"
The feeling of his hand on her hair makes her gasp, Ghost maneuvering her down and to the right more. "Phillip not teach you where the sights are?"
She doesn't respond.
His chest is pressed against her back as he leans down, standing behind her. "There, that's it. Now breathe in deep." She does, Ellie, hoping he doesn't hear her heart about to jump out of her chest. All memory of him being a jerk yesterday is out of the picture. "Release and squeeze the trigger. Slow."
Exhaling, her now sweaty forefinger starts to grip the cool metal. When it's fully compressed a clear shot rings out. Ellie leans back away from the gun and stares at the perfect hole in the middle of the target's head.
