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Pull it.

*You’re here to kill him… remember that! If you’re emotions get to you, repeat the goal to yourself. You stood over him, aiming your gun at him… you feel like you can’t do it?… No, you can… Fyodor stared up at you as he was on the ground, he had that stupid fucking smirk on his face. Oh that man… You kept aiming the gun as Fyodor kept talking… Stop with that, Fyodor…

You held the gun in a firm grip while Fyodors’ smirk faltered and he stared up at the gun, his gaze went to the gun, then it went to you. Blood ran down his mouth, along with the cut that was on his cheek, right under his eye. What’re you waiting for?… You tightened your grip on the gun, about to pull the trigger. Your face was one of disgust… or, kinda like that. Your eyes were narrowed, and your eyebrows were furrowed. His face on other hand was one of confidence, his face was cunning. His eyes were narrowed and his eyebrow was raised. Why is he making that expression?… You spoke, “Any last words?…” “You mean you’re actually going to kill me?” He spoke. “I mean just that.” You replied. “Well… Go ahead.” He replied to you. “I’ll do this my own way.” You replied. “You won’t do it. You can’t pull the trigger.” He said that while looking at your hands, which were not firm anymore, now quivering. Your mouth quivered also as your gaze stayed the same, glaring down at him. He smiled with his brows now furrowed, “You can’t do it because you love me.” His russian voice was soft as he spoke with you. Enough with your crap, Fyodor!… You glared into his eyes, holding the gun with a shaky grip as he didn’t make any effort in trying to move.