Justifiable Homicide

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11

It was even worse than she'd imagined, mostly because the source of the sour smell was now in her mouth.

But if there was a silver lining here, it was in the form of opportunity. She was face to face with the gun that was in her captor's hand. He was holding it in his left hand. His hand was close to his lap. His grip was loose, like he was so enjoying himself that he'd let his guard down. His other hand was in her hair, stroking her head and massaging her scalp in a disgusting display of false intimacy.

She kept her eyes on that gun while she did her awful duty. But like any opportunity worth anything, there was risk. If she reached for it, would she be able to tear it away from him before he could tighten his fingers around the grip and slam it against the side of her face?

She prepared for him to climax by putting a hand in his lap. She moved her hand closer to his gun hand, creeping it across his lap while he remained blissfully unaware of her intentions. When her hand was no more than an inch from his, she kept it there, motionless and ready to spring into action.

It happened sooner than she thought it would. It always does in moments like these.The thick man moaned and his body tensed. He was in that place of sweet sweet nothings.

She reached for the gun.

She got it.


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