The Girl Who Shot Me | ✓

Part 4: The Gun

'Where are we, Quiyl?'

'Welcome to Consulate, 1900.'

The place was unrecognizable at first sight, and to say that I've been here would have seemed like a far stretch.

Or so it may seem.

As soon as the colorless beacon revealed itself on the bleached horizon, a strange familiarity crept up on me, as if Déjà vu came in the form of a large dose of inhibitors. 'Hang on a second.'

I gave a quick look. 'Quiyl?'

'You should remember it the clearest.' She frosted.

As we made our way towards an accustomed stairwell, my mind cringed, and it felt like a key was finally in its righteous place.

'I've been here before.'

She stopped. 'Indeed you have.'

The room we were in felt dull under a pallet of grey, but my memories had gathered that the walls used to be toffee brown, with authentic gothic design seeping into its every brick.

'I was here.' I shocked. 'I couldn't remember how or when.'

'I'm sure you will, sooner or later.'

The door swung open, and a feeling of cruelty reigned through the air.

This trip down memory lane was going to be engagingly terrifying.

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In a spy's dictionary, trust is written in transparent ink. It was always there, yet all espionage personnel ignores it until they get interrogated or betrayed even.

I thought I could break betray her, but I suppose I wasn't as brave enough as I thought I was.

After all, even spies are humans at the end of the day. We can, after all, feel and regret. We are as flesh and blood as the average cock.

To her, it was a tool. Actually, more of an inside joke she subtly made to piss on my grave; I used her as a tool, so she uses me as hers. You know, up to that point, I still didn't have a single clue why Esco said I was a tool, nor did I understand why Quiyl brought me there.

Right now, the truth is nothing more than crystal clear.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------The air of cruelty was soon accompanied by a song of darkness and light; a beacon in the dark, with a background of stars drizzling the sky.

'Quiyl, I remember this place. You know I do.'

I was taken away by the shear discomfort and beauty of the location, pushing me to the border of a certain frustration.

'Quiyl!' I demanded. 'Tell me why I'm here, right now!'

A grace of dry air blew upon me, and as I stood there still frustrated, I realised we were standing on a small platform, with a sea of sand surrounding us. Beacons and lights appeared from within the ground, which they have all shot up into the skies as a column of colours. She whispered, 'Think on your sins.'

Through the past few years of being sent to various countries would pretty much mean I have seen almost everything this miraculous world has to offer, and I never once looked back. There were simply assignments after assignments, missions after missions. Yet all she needed to hold me in my track was a 4-word sentence.

'Tell me, are you afraid of reality?' Quiyl coiled. I remained silent.

'Because if you are, then brace yourself.'