So That's What That Does

"The Hand of God"

Somewhere in Edison Park...

"Don't ask questions, just shoot me."  Jon stared across the garage at Bree, who seemed to slowly consider what it was the nice man who let her stay in his garage was telling her.

"I can't.  It will attract attention."  She put the gun on the crudely constructed work bench and went back to her game of Flappy Birds.

"Bree, please, I need to test this."  He walked over and put the gun back in her hand.  "Even if it works, you won't hurt me.  They're low velocity rounds and I'm wearing a vest."  She knew a lie when she heard it.  He was wearing a vest, as usual, but not the kind that would protect him from a bullet - unless she had missed something about polyester in the past three years.  "And the garage is sound proof.  Just point and click and I'll let you use my pass for the entire year."

"No."  She put the gun down again.  "I don't want to.  Just leave me alone.  Why do you always have to act so weird? I do what you want.  I watch the house during the day and at night when you're not here.  Why can't you just make a pass at me like anyone else would?  Why do I always have to do weird things like print out obituaries and buy kitty liter and shoot you?"

"Because you're a worthless girl who has no ambitions beyond getting her next high, scavenging from hard working citizens, and lazing about waiting for some prince to pull a pretty woman on you and whisk you away."  That was enough.  She retrieved the gun and levied it at his head.

"You're a bastard and I hate you."  She took a step closer to him and paused.  She levied the gun at his head and lined up the shot.  "I should just kill you and then this can be my house.  No one will miss you."

"That is true.  You're one trigger pull away from having a house for the first time in your life.  Imagine what you could do with it.  Even if you just sell my books you'll have enough money to live off of for years, assuming you don't smoke it all way."  She scowled at him and pulled back the hammer like she saw in the movies.

"Good bye Mr. Clay."

This is the part where her finger should pull the trigger, the bullet should pass through his skull, and obliterate most of his brain, especially at this range.  She saw it all.  Click.  Bang.  Drop.  That's how it was supposed to go.  But somewhere deep a new vision rose up.  Across the narrow space between her and her target a soft light appeared just in the corner of her eye.  A voice whispered to her softly and told her that it was a sin to murder an innocent.  A soft tear rolled down her cheek and she set the gun down.

"Bree?"

"I can't.  He won't let me."

Jon smiled.

"Good.  That is all.  You can have the rest of the night off."