Fading Colours - Prologue

The gun felt like a tumour against Will's thigh, threatening to engulf him and immerse him in a never ending sea of steely hatred and revulsion. It wielded power, a destructive power that was more than capable of shattering lives. At one glance, it could instill fear and terror into some individuals, leaving them begging for mercy on their hands and knees. For others, it was excitement and curiosity, reinforcing the familiarity of safety and security.

Two years ago, shortly after his pass out parade, Will had shot a rifle - though he couldn't remember the number of the model. All he had known was that it was certainly a big bastard, almost as long as his own body. Its tremendous weight had deemed it near impossible for him to hold it up by himself without support. He could remember a Corporal supporting the end of his rifle for him as he pulled the trigger and reloaded, discarding the empty shells.

Bang...bang...bang...bang...bang.

"It's nothing to be ashamed of," were the Flight Sergeant's reassuring words earlier that night, "I was small for my age like you. I used to have to have a Corporal help me to hold up my rifle too."

But Will was no longer in the shooting range. There was no Corporal or Flight Sergeant regarding his presence, watching over him and ready to pounce upon tiniest mistake at first sight. It was Will and Will only. Only Will watching and on the lookout. He had only one shot at this. No room for mistakes: the slightest mistake could cost him his life.

Will's heart thudded painfully against his ribcage, each beat as painful as the last. Adrenaline pulsed through his veins and his breath hissed through his teeth in short and ragged gasps. Sweat trickled down his neck and under his shirt, icy cold against his skin. Will slid his hand into his trouser pocket, his fingers brushing gently against the warm metal of the hilt of the handgun that he had found a few days ago - a constant reminder to himself that it was real. In his other trouser pocket lay three gold bullets, ready to be loaded into the gun and fired. Tonight, he would carry out his mission and pull the trigger of the gun. Another life gone, another life shattered into a billion shards never to be seen again.

He pulled his hand out from his trouser pocket and rolled up his hoodie sleeve to reveal a black digital watch, the numbers flickering as each second passed. It read 16:09. Will stared at the watch, the sound of blood rushing in his ears and the hammering of his heart deafening in the suffocating silence. He had carefully planned everything out, spending painstaking hours piecing the plan together late into the night. During the planning, he had decided to choose a time where his parents were away from home: his mother picking his younger brother up from his football training, and his father finishing his shift at work. This way, nothing could disrupt or disturb his plans and routine. He would be by himself and if he returned beaten and bloody, he would have time to clean himself up before they returned.

Will glanced down at his watch again. The flickering numbers now read 16:10. It was time. His eyebrows furrowed together, meeting in the middle. He pulled down his sleeve, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, letting out slowly through his mouth to calm his pounding heart.

I will kill him.