Page 66 of A Taste Of Darkness

It was strange to hold a gun in my hands again after I’d somewhat killed someone two years ago. I didn’t know how to use it, or if I even hit him. I only shot because I thought Flora wouldn’t—she did shoot—and we were already inside Chris’s apartment.

Flora wanted to kill her ex because he was straight-up disgusting, and if she hadn’t done it, Milo definitely would’ve at some point.

Okay, and I held a gun when I shot that guy who attacked me, but I was acting more in fear than I could grasp what I’d done, so I didn’t count it.

“Now, steady the gun with your free hand,” he told me. I did, and I thought it looked right but Milo chuckled. “I’m going to?—"

“Touch me. Yes, yes, I know.” I elbowed him in the side. “You know, you could touch a whole different part of me, but you’re being difficult.” I wasn’t even convinced we’d ever go there. It wasn’t in my blood to let a guy past my first layer of clothing.

“My apologies, cuore mio. I hope you can forgive me.” His front pressed against my back as he adjusted my hands, and I was actually annoyed when I felt a difference.

Then, I could feel the tips of his fingers trace along my arms, to my shoulders, moving down my sides before he rested them on my waist.

My hands were trembling, and this time it wasn’t because of the pistol in my hands.

I felt his lips press to my neck, to which I tilted my head to give him more access, but he tsked. “Eyes on the target, cuore mio.”

“They are,” I argued, but straightened my neck either way.

“Concentrate.”

“I am.” I was concentrating on him, but he never specified what I was supposed to concentrate on anyway.

“Aim,” he said, stepping back.

I already stood in a ready-to-shoot position—at least, that was what Milo told me two minutes ago. I didn’t think people stood a certain way to be ready to shoot, but if he said it, it must’ve been true.

Actually, he could’ve lied to me for all I knew. Maybe he was the worst gun user ever. How was I supposed to know? I never saw him fire a gun before.

“Is the way I stand important?” I asked, not yet ready to shoot.

“Yes,” he answered. “The proper stance is situational, but for a place like this, there’s only one correct way to stand. This way, it’s easier for you to control recoil. It’s good for practice.”

“Okay, I guess that makes sense.”

“You ready?” he asked, I nodded. “Concentrate. Aim.”

I had done this before and this time nothing could happen. Everything was alright. I didn’t have to fear the gun, I knew that.

You practiced with an unloaded gun before, you know how to do this. Milo taught you.

It still made me nervous though.

My finger was on the trigger, ready to shoot.

The gun was fixed on the target before me—some paper cut-out of a human-like silhouette.

I pulled the trigger more than once. Fired about five shots with closed eyes because I wasn’t ready to look.

When I reopened my eyes and looked at the target, there wasn’t a single hole in the paper.

“It’s okay. Aiming takes practice.” Milo tried to cheer me up, but it didn’t help.

What was I thinking anyway? I didn’t even look. How was I supposed to hit the target if my eyes were closed?

This whole thing felt like math to me: impossible.

“Could you hit the target with your eyes closed?” I asked, unloading the gun before I set both on the counter before me just so I could turn around and face Milo. “You’re good with guns, right? But are you good enough to shoot without looking?”

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