The Glass Breaks And The Lady Bleeds

A good trigger, when pulled, should feel like breaking glass. The sensation should be distinctive, crisp and most of all binary. There should be no wavering or extra deliberation needed in the actual act of pulling the trigger. Calvin breathes out and shoots. The trigger feels exactly as it should.

Anyone within a city block can hear the sound of lightning touching down. Ten stories down and a hundred yards from Calvin, Justin is in the middle of a small park bleeding internally. There is a hole in Justin and it’s slightly wider than a quarter. He doesn’t have a heart anymore, it was ripped apart as the bullet left. Justin dies quickly but the last thing he remembers is a terrible punch.

Calvin shoves the rifle into a gym bag. He’s out the door, moving in good time. As he makes his way down the rickety wooden staircase, The Lady of Guadalupe is in the front of his mind. She is tattooed on Justin’s back and now she has a hole through her that’s seeping blood.

This week no one will rent a room at that motel on the outskirts of town. Calvin will never look at the Lady of Guadalupe again. No more pillow talk, no more bad movies, just Calvin, alone. A man that can be hired to kill should always make sure not to acquaint himself with those that might need to die.

He’s out the back door and the duffel goes behind a trash can to be found later, without a print or clue. He walks into the noon sun, feeling bloodied and awful. The Lady is still there in his mind and she’s not leaving. He’ll try whiskey, he’ll try pills but she’ll never leave.

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