Not to be read

Summary

There is no interesting back story. I was a junior. I attended a low budget charter school, and I made average grades. No one special. As I matured, I took a slight interest in politics. It doesn't take long to see our nation is divided. I listened to both sides. I wanted so badly to see both perspectives. But only one could be morally correct.

Do not be fooled, I'm not a saint. I do not pride myself on being a good person, but I wish I could. I wish I had the conscience to tell me why I shouldn't do certain things, but I don't. I simply don't do them because I know the consequences.

For a young lady, I had connections. The kind a young lady should not have. I made the choice that year to kill off the people of the other side, the people who had chosen the views opposite of me. It made sense that if they all began to disappear, the world would change into a better place, into the world it was supposed to be.
In summary, I soon owned an unregistered sniper. I learned to shoot that type of gun within a month, and I researched my targets. It was not difficult considering I lived in a state with many of those exact kinds of people.

The jobs went smooth. I did not let myself feel the guilt I wanted to feel, instead I turned off my emotions and squeezed the trigger, every time. I became smoother, though I should've expected my job to get harder.

I was normal when I would return to high school. I did what everyone else did and I was not suspect. I took interesting classes. One of the strangest was robotic engineering. That's where I met him, the ridiculous boy named Joaquin.

I fall for guys all the time, but because of their body's, never their personalities. This was quite different. All I knew about him at first was that he was on the opposing views.

I'll refer to the opposed as the "ducks", and the others (including me) cam be referred to as the swans.

I find it odd that I knew he was a duck, even as our chemistry was developing, I knew. At first, I thought it was fine, his parents are clearly ducks who want him to be one too. He could change his mind, potentially. How naive of me.

Months passed, and I continued with my jobs. I never began to feel remorse. It's ironic, considering I'm on "the good side" that I'm so cruel and heartless. I don't wish to be that way, but I am, and I must accept it. Knowing what's right was not a matter of consciousness, it was one of logic. I knew the right side to choose when things got political, I almost wished I hadn't.

I still saw Joaquin every few days. His opinions did not change, though he knew if he dared argue with me, he'd lose. We didn't speak of politics, just everything else.

We became closer, and I noticed he did extremely well in school. All A's and a 4.0 average. I would have been proud, inspired even, but I saw what the future held.

If Joaquin continued to succeed, and if he stayed a duck, he would easily become one of my targets. The thought tore at me, but I knew the right thing, I still do. I made a plan to go after him when my senior year ended. I think I just wanted to give him time, in hopes he'd change his mind.

Time passes, he asks me to a dance and I tell him yes, but that we are not together. He doesn't question me much. I decide at the dance I need to just do it. Waiting is only making things worse. I slip my knife under my dress before I get there, to find Joaquin looking handsome as ever.

He tells me I'm pretty, and we play around all night. Our friends move around the venue a lot, so I look for my chance. I catch Joaquin alone in the hallway. I stop him, and I pull my knife. He sees it sooner than I anticipate.
"Woah, what is that? What are you doing?" he asks.
I laugh, "Haha I'm just fucking with you," I say in a voice he's used to. He asks why I have it on me, "my mother made me bring it in case of an emergency or something," I lie. He chuckles, looking at me like he loves me. He grabs my face, pulling me in, but I turn to leave.

Days continue going by, I see Joaquin in class. It's almost awkward, but I continue to flirt with him to keep our chemistry. I want him, badly, but I'm too smart. I know what loving him would do to the both of us, and I need to do the right thing.

He opens up as time passes, I see his talents and his kindness. I see the way his mind works to create and to flourish. He's still smart, and his views are the same. I must remind myself when I feel affection that he is a duck.

We are in love. He loves that I'm "crazy" and that I make him laugh. I like his childish humor and all the beautiful talent that he was born with. We don't show it, but we both can feel it, even from the distance I've  put between us.

I become a senior. I've come to the heartbreaking decision of finishing what I started. Love isn't enough to excuse the pain and anguish of the divide. Joaquin is not enough.

I sit outside of his house, and I wait. It's 9 pm when he enters his bedroom. I can see him through his window. He looks at his cell phone, likely wondering why I haven't responded to him. I aim my gun to his head. The tree is difficult to be in, but manageable. He picks up his guitar and starts to play. I focus on the area I'm aiming for. My vision becomes slightly blurry, but not blinding. I take a deep breath, and I squeeze the trigger. He falls. His father walks in, trying to comprehend what's happened. I aim between his eyes, and I squeeze. His mother runs in. She throws herself on Joaquin's body, clutching him while screaming. I strain to see her clearly, find her head, and I squeeze. All motion that I can see through the house has ceased. I look down at myself, my hands are wet. I touch my face to find tears hot on my cheeks. I wipe them away in awe. I haven't cried since I was 9. I put away my equipment, and I leave.