He was at your mercy now with his back turned and your sniper centered on the back of his head. Your finger danced over the trigger in some sort of cruel game. You could do this. This is what you've dreamed of since watching him brutally murder your friends, people you considered family. Still your finger danced.

As you battled with your own will he slowly turned as if sensing you were there, lining his forehead up with your aim. You sat confused, he was beckoning you to come out.