Mafia

This is just the prologue of the story

 “You know what to do.” He grins as he presses the gun into my hands. He steps back and crosses his arms, waiting.

          I turn the gun over in my hands and admire the beauty of the silver in the handle. This is isn’t the first time I’ve held a gun, but this feels different. Even though it’s beautifully crafted, there’s something heavy and dark about it; it’s surrounded by a deadly, almost sinister, aura. It’s the kind of object you know could cause a lot of death and despair; the evilness radiating off it is almost palpable.

          I turn the safety off and lift the gun, aiming to a man in a chair. The man looks to be about mid-50s with grayish salt and pepper hair. He’s skinny and sickly, as if he’s been starved. His clothes are ripped and dirty and judging by the amount of facial hair he has, he hasn’t shaved in days. His head droops down against his chest; his face is bruised and swollen, his eyes are dim and hopeless. His whole appearance is one of distraught and utter lack of attention for his own wellbeing. His voice is hoarse and very quiet but I can still hear him beg for his life as two larger men hold him down. I know this man doesn’t deserve to die, but I have to do this. I don’t necessarily want to, nor will I enjoy doing it, but it has to be done.

          I aim to the man’s head, and make the mistake of looking him in the eyes. It’s only a split second, but it’s enough for me to see the pain from all his years. The way his eyes have a small glimmer, as if there was once a shining hope there but it was dwindled down by events and people in his life, makes me wish I could change it. I can see the pain from the time he’d spent as a prisoner to his own decisions and how he’d tied himself to these men all his life. And now this is his end, but to him it’s more like an escape. I shake the thought away and force my finger to pull the trigger.

The gun goes off with a jolting bang and the man falls to the floor with blood running from his head. It pools around his motionless body and I imagine for a moment that it’s his life and will to survive that’s seeping from him instead of thick red blood. I lower the gun and look down at my hands in disbelief of what I’ve just done. I’ve never taken the life of another person like this before. It felt so cherished, so personal, almost like I’ve known this man my whole life and he knew me too. The sharp clicking of footsteps behind me snaps my mind out of its moment of imagination.

He walks up behind me and claps a hand on my shoulder. His laughter fills my ears as terror begins to fill my heart.

“Welcome to the family, kid.”