David Shen felt alone when he took out bottom drawer from his dresser out. The noise from the living-room TV masked the sounds he was making. In his bedroom, David looked down. Against the carpet was a blackish looking object. It was difficult to tell at first, but since he didn't often use the ceiling light - opting for high intensity and indirect lights such as lamps instead and knowing what he previously put - there no light was required. It was black rectangular block, a spring, and something that resembled a water pistol.
The three parts quickly assembled into his pistol. He walked over to his desk and found three loaded magazines. The first one went immediately into the Makarov pistol. He placed the pistol on the table. The second into his jeans watch pocket, although David didn't know that at the time, and always imagine it was for Zippos or loose change. The third magazine went into his left front jacket pocket. Afterwards, he put his old custom leather holster on and tightened his belt in position. The holster, although older, allowed him to carry his piece inside his waistband at a 3 and 4 o'clock position. He generally preferred that position since he liked to tuck his shirts into his pants, whether or not he was carrying.
Chambering a round into the barrel was difficult in close proximity to his roommate, who was anti-gun and in the living room, but that wasn't the issue. The metal sliding forward always had a distinct sound, the same way a car slamming the breaks and skidding sounds. So, David did what was normal: he took a blanket from his desk chair and covered himself to mask the sound of loading his pistol and de-cocking it. When he holstered he was careful to look down to make sure no fabric would snag the trigger. No issues, he thought.
There was a little bit of alcohol left in his tumbler. He drank it and looked at his phone. His flask was empty, or would be shortly, so he knew he was going to leave it. The message was clear:
im sorry
i cant do this
you probably hate me
David wondered if he really did hate her. She knew what he was going to do. He tried not to think about it, but it was unavoidable. If this were someone else, would they have gone all the way with me? He thought briefly of his war buddy who was happily married in Missouri. David never understood how the latter two items worked together, but he knew if Jeff wasn’t married, he’d be there with David. Jeff was good with D-9s and shotguns. Unfortunately for David, he knew that it was difficult to operate and utilize both at the sametime. He found his mind distracted and reoriented himself.
It wasn’t Lixue’s fault she couldn’t come, David thought. It was that the sacrifice itself was sufficient for itself. It wasn’t revenge at this point. She couldn’t understand that the purpose he had in life was to end another’s as well as his own. Looking down at his watch, he knew it was time. The man who raped his sister, subsequently killing her and her two boys had to go. Lixue knew that, and still loved David; however he knew the man she loved was over. Although he was kind of hoping her womanly ways would make his job easier. She's just a girlfriend. He tried to convince himself. Perhaps he knew her guarded nature protected her from being hurt by the man she loved. He tried not to think about it and quickly put on shoes to leave.
When he left home he forgot earplugs, and realizing this he felt awful. He waived down a cab and got in.
“Bowery and 11th.”
“You want the meter?” said a foreign sounding voice.
“It doesn’t matter.” David said looking out at the people on the sidewalk.
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