I take a deep breath and lift my shaky hands revealing a dirty pistol. I slightly press it on his forehead and hiss.
"It's over, bitch."
Silence stretches between us. The tension so thick, I could slice it with a knife.
Then, a maniacal laugh ripples through the dimly lit room. It wasn't loud, just sharp enough to make the air feel colder, as if the sound itself were crawling into the corners and hiding there. Every echo came back slightly distorted, as though the room were laughing along with him, twisting his voice into something even more unsettling. Finally his gaze locks in with mine, his sharp green eyes revealing nothing more than amusement, his voice low and dangerous though there is no fear or anger in it... just pure delight.
"You think a pistol is going to get rid of me, darling? You think it will save you,mmh? You can run if you want, but choices require freedom and you've been inside my reach far longer than you realize."
He leans closer, whispering like a promise he'd already kept and adds.
"You'll always feel me there. Watching. Waiting. Because I don't let go of what's mine. And you? Your my fucking property. So please, I beg of you. I want to have the honor to die by your hands. Do it, I fucking dare you."
My hands are still shaking desperately, my finger wrapped around the trigger but not hard enough to pull it. I feel beads of sweat rolling down my temple.
He grins widely and starts whistling. The same goddamn whisper. The whisper that sends a shiver down my spine. The whisper that has traumatized me for many years. That fucking cursed melody. I hate it, I hate him.
Then....
A loud shooting noise erupts in the room.