Fear of me

I look at her. Really look at her and see those beautiful brown eyes that always seemed so effortlessly happy fill with tears of agony. And in that moment I swear to everything that keeps me alive I felt something deep in my chore tear. It didn’t last longer than the pinch of a needle but it was so very intense that it didn’t take any more. As the first tear made its way down her cheek I reached for the gun hanging loosely in my belt and in one swift move I turn around and shot him in the head.
As the ringing in my ears starts to settle I make myself look away. I flinch at the smell of metal and blood and fear and dear gods stuck in the throats of the people around me. The people looking at me, at the body, at Amelie, at me turning around to Amelie.
 A shiver is scratches my back when I see that she’s not happy at all with this. Not relieved or angry, just scared. It’s something I have seen from  other people. Yes. But never from her. And especially not towards me.
Fear of me.
 It’s in her eyes and bluntly reaching her entire being. She looks as though she’d be next. She’s shaking and my  heart is wrenching. It’s right there, something dark, saying please, begging no and not you too and why did you leave me and where have you gone
I stare at the gun in my hands. The gun I just used to kill a man. A man who’s done horrible things to his sister and I realize. Oh. Oh, no.
I just killed her brother.
 

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