Description
"Do it." He got in closer, his fingers brushing over your hand, as if he was telling you to suck it up and kill them in one swift move. You let out a breath, finger hovering over the trigger of your gun. Ever since you got into this place, you've never killed anyone, sure you've witnessed people die in numerous ways but you weren't the one who pulled the trigger. And you knew looking vulnerable and weak in front of the people here wasn't going to help you. But you had to do this, you thought. To survive. And as if he was reading your mind, he spoke up. "You have to get blood on your hands every once in a while," He whispered. He was the snake. A snake tempting and whispering in your ear to bite the apple, or in your case, to pull the trigger. "It's the only way you can survive in this godforsaken world." OR Do you ever just wonder how much can a person change in only a matter of time?
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