baby [h.s.]

fourteen

"Feet apart, arms leveled, gaze down,"

"Like this?" My eyes were narrowed at the target, the gun in my hands as I aimed.

"Safety's off?" he asked. I checked and nodded. "Shoot,"

The sound was sharp, echoing off of the walls. Amidst the recoil, my shoulders shot back, but my feet remained planted; Harry had taught me how to handle that.

I blinked and glanced at the target. It hit the center.

"Shit," Harry breathed out, staring at the target. I grinned. "Are you kidding me? Try again, beginner's luck,"

I laughed and got into stance once more. And as soon as the gun went off, the bullet lodged itself into the target, just a few centimeters away from the center.

My eyebrows shot up. A gap formed between my lips as I stared, astonished at what I had just accomplished.

"How did I just-"

"I don't know," he said, cutting me off. "I don't even...go again,"

With feet planted in the ground, I shot the gun off multiple times, each bullet landing relatively close to the center. My aim was spectacular, and I didn't even know how.

"This is insane," he said, turning away from me. "Christ, I've never seen someone catch on so fast,"

My gaze darted from him back to the target. The gun was still in my hands, all of the bullet ridded from it. A heavy weight was on my shoulders, knowing what this meant.

As soon as they knew that I'm good with shooting, this is what they'd have me doing. Suddenly, the gun felt heavier. My eyelids drooped as I thought about all the things they could have me doing with this one killer at the tips of my fingers.

"Harry," I whispered. "Fuck, Harry,"

He looked at me. "This is bloody brilliant, Tilly,"

My eyebrows rose in disbelief. "Are you joking? If they know I can shoot a gun, then they'll make my job shooting. I can't do that, Harry, I just-"

He noticed my distress. His shoulders sunk as he stepped over threw his arm over my shoulder.

"I have more of an influence on this company than you think, I'll make sure you have a higher up job than a gunman," he said. "They'll take all of your skills into account, love, not just the fact that you can shoot a gun."

"I don't want to think about it," I said, pinching the bridge of my nose. I shrugged his arm off of me. "Let's just keep working,"

"You got it, babe,"

And so we did. For the remainder of the day, he taught me different tactics; shooting while on the move, having to hide and shoot at the same time. With each thing I learned, I felt safer, yet I felt so much more dangerous, deadly even.

We didn't speak after we finished and cleaned up. It was to both of our understanding that this made everything different. It made my path through this company much more unpredictable.

Before, Harry had explained to me that I would probably be mediocre at each thing he was teaching me, and he would build my skill up until I was good. And being good would get me a predictable position; someone's second-hand-woman, a decoy, part of a team. Being good would cut it for me. Being good would be easy for me.