Page 30 of Tank
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Nadya
I itched for something to do. My skin crawled to get this job done and over with so I could move on, and I had become a crazy mess. My cool, calm demeanor was slipping.
I found myself pacing the small space that I was living in. I found myself doing it more than ever before. When my eyes weren’t on my phone, watching him, I was like a caged tiger. I was becoming obsessed. But I wasn’t sure what it was that I was obsessing over. Was it him? Was it the timing? Was I simply trying to find the right moment to set up and end it all?
That last one was the one I wanted to believe the most. It was the one that I forced myself to believe.
No doubt, I was going mad.
Before I realized what I was doing, I had my bag loaded up and tied to the back of my bike. Then I was riding the winding road that led up to the cabin. I parked a good ways down the mountain, dismounted, and tossed my bag over my shoulder. I made my way up, skirting around the tree trunks with ease. I was hidden under the blanket of night and the thick forest. It was almost three in the morning and I should have been in bed. I should have been asleep. But I wasn’t. I had found it harder and harder to find my calm and I couldn’t seem to close my eyes and let go.
I hit the edge of the tree line, but I stayed tucked away in the darkness, my body hugging a thick tree trunk. The world around me was too silent, even the wind was nonexistent. It was weird and I felt unsettled.
The cabin was lit up with the dim light of a table lamp but from the angle, I was at I couldn’t see into the cabin. With slow, precise movements, I climbed the tree. I didn’t make a sound as I found a sturdy branch and straddled it. My legs dangled as they hung off the sides. I was a good fifteen feet off the ground and the only thing that bothered me at the thought of falling was how much noise I would make when my body and gear hit the ground. Good thing I was sure I wouldn’t fall.
I hadn’t seen him in person in five days. I had no idea why it bothered me so much. I never should have been this close unless I was ready to pull the trigger. I mean, that was the whole point of the mission that night. Right? That was what I had sought out to do when I grabbed my bag. Why else would I have brought it?
Noah was passed out on the couch, his long hair covering his face and it bothered me. I wanted to see his face one last time before I ended it but I had no idea why. It was like deep inside of me I needed to. I needed to commit it to memory.
But that was stupid. The last thing I ever needed was to remember a target.
I shook out my fingers before I pulled my bag off my shoulder. In the darkness, with precision, I set up my long range weapon. The whole time, my eyes never left Noah’s unmoving form. Sitting on a tree branch wasn’t ideal, but I could do it.
My back was straight against the thick trunk. I lifted the scope to my eye and instantly he was in my view. He was closer. I could see his chest rise and fall with a slowness that told me he was deep asleep.
Deep breath in, release and pull. It was that simple. But as I sucked in a lungful of chilly air, I froze. My finger relaxed beside the trigger as I exhaled.
I blinked once.
Twice.
Three times.
And tried again.
Deep breath in.
I found myself inhaling to the point that my lungs burned and even then I didn’t want to stop. Once I was done, I was going to have to exhale and that meant that I was going to have to let go.
Come on. Show me your face.
But even as I held my breath I knew it wouldn’t happen.
“Fuck!” I said in a harsh whisper as all of the air rushed out of my lungs.
My body sagged. My arms relaxed and the rifle came down to rest against my thighs.
With an aggravated urgency, I broke everything down. I climbed back down and once my feet hit the ground, I took off running for my bike.
It wasn’t the right time, at least that was what I kept telling myself over and over again. If it didn’t feel right then I shouldn’t do it. That was what my mentor had always taught me, to pay attention to my gut as much as my surroundings. It just wasn’t right.
Inside my apartment, I tossed my bag to the ground with a heavy thud. I grabbed at my clothes. I needed to be free. I felt tight and rigid. I felt like I was choking. My fingers tore off my boots, flinging them to the other side of the room. My pants came next, and I cursed the stretch in the fabric that clung to me like a second skin.
Once I was free, I ripped off my shirt and bra in one swoop. I dug through the pile of clothes on the floor, in search of a shirt that wouldn’t feel binding. I grabbed an old, worn tee that I’d found at a thrift store, the neck was frayed and there were a few small holes in the shoulder. It should have been perfect, but as I slid it on, it made my skin itch. It felt like little needles pricking me every time I shifted. It was all in my head, I knew that. I kept telling myself that. But yet, I couldn’t fight the reaction and no matter how much I pulled at the soft cotton, the feeling wouldn’t stop.
I couldn’t understand why I was having such a hard time. He should have been an easy target. He was on the brink of the edge himself and when I looked at him I could see it all. He was broken. He had resigned himself already. He wanted to see the end. So why should it matter if I was the one to give it to him? He was obviously trying to do it himself but he was just doing it the slow way by drowning himself every day. He was a man that had already given up on life. So, why couldn’t I do it? Why couldn’t I be the one to give him that peace? Why did it all feel so wrong?
As I flopped down on the bed, my chest felt tight, my heart raced, and my head was dizzy. I’d never experienced anything like it. I swallowed, finding it hard to do. I gripped the edge of the mattress and forced myself to calm down. After a long while, I faded into the darkness of sleep.
