“Are
you going to kill me?”
The
words came out like molasses, slow and deliberate. Calm. I had
imagined saying those words at least a million times, yet when I said
them, they didn’t feel like I had wanted them to. I was a
little disappointed.
The man with the gun was standing in front of me. He was aiming his
weapon at my forehead, unmoving. The ropes around my wrists felt like
they weren’t even there, but I knew they were, because I
couldn’t move my hands. Even if I could
have moved my hands, I probably wouldn’t have. I wasn’t
struggling. I wasn’t trying to get away. The man had still not
answered my question.
If I were normal, this
situation probably would have been more satisfying for him. If I were
normal, I would have been saying normal things. If I were normal, I
would have been trying to get away or trying to convince him not to
kill me. But, instead, all I said was, “Are you going to kill
me?” in the same voice that a curious child might use when
asking his mother if they could go for ice cream.
I blinked, and suddenly the
man got shorter… curvier. Waves of onyx hair spilled over his
shoulders, replacing his wispy brown mop. His fingernails went from
being dirty and rugged to neatly filed points that were painted blood
red. His uninteresting clothes suddenly became a formfitting black dress
that fit like a glove. The person in front of me wasn’t
a man anymore; he had transformed.
In his place stood a pretty
girl with pale skin and green eyes. There was a tiny scar straight
through her eyebrow where the hair didn’t grow. I knew even
before she smiled that she had a chipped front tooth from when she
had fallen off her bicycle in fourth
grade. I knew that she had a strange birthmark on her big toe. I knew
that she had a pale freckle in the corner of her lip that she had a
fetish for licking when she was nervous.
I knew that I was looking at
myself. My lips were stretched across my teeth in the same grimace
that my mother had always said looked a little too dangerous for such
a seemingly mild girl. My fingers were curled delicately around the
gun that I was pointing at myself. My breathing was rapid and
shallow, and I looked particularly excited.
“Are you going to kill
me?”
Her mouth moved as mine did.
This time, my voice sounded steadier; I sounded sure of myself. The
words sounded like I had always imagined they would. Sheer ecstasy
flooded throughout my body.
We were both smiling when I
pulled the trigger.
My only thing is (and its minuscule, that's why this isn't a review) but what is the point of the man if he only turns into the girl? He seems to just be there to be there, is there further purpose? And also, How is she holding the gun to herself at the end if her hands are bound? If you could elaborate a bit more on these points and I think that it would all be perfect 
You did an awesome job, so keep it up!
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