The closer I got to the door, the slower I moved. A few feet from it, I stopped entirely. “If tying up loose ends is rule two, then what is rule one?”
“Why obedience, of course.” At that moment he sounded like the Polkovnik. They shared the same cold demeanor that housed a void inside. Or at least they used to. The Polkovnik no longer had anything resembling a personality. He existed as fleeting emotions without connection or history. I had broken his mind and now there was nothing left.
“I sense your hesitation but stalling won’t help you. This is about responsibility.” He chuckled, a sound devoid of humor. “Oh, I’m not one of you. We bear certain similarities but you needn’t worry- we’re not the same.”
He placed the gun in my hand. Cold and heavy, it reminded me of a tombstone, an object of endings.
Do I keep running? Or do something that will change me forever. Before, I was fighting for my life, too tired and hungry to be afraid. This was different. It was cold-blooded murder. What should I do?