The Voice

“Jackson...Jackson, over here!”
The voice keeps nagging me on, but I remain focused on my target. My target is a smallish man who is planning to sell a drug that will eventually be sent all over the world. He is a stubby man as if he has no legs at all. A messy shave with patches of hair covers his face. He is talking to a much taller man who has a blank, emotionless face. The tall guy is so tall, it looks as if he stole the short man’s legs and added them onto his own! He is athletically built but looks a little slow in the head. They work so quickly, it’s hard to determine the right moment to fire. I have to however wait for evidence.
I am an extremely impatient man who has been on a stinking stakeout for the past week. My mission is to kill the two shadowed men before the world is contaminated with drugs.
“Jackson, over here, now!” shouts the nagging voice once more.
The voice is starting to annoy to me, which is what it is meant to do. The voice in my head constantly overwhelms me to move and go home.
“This is no job for a rookie,” the voice would often say. “How can you kill those two men who murdered your father? You don’t have the guts, no courage. You haven’t seen your father in years because of these two men. Your father was always a little slow in the head, but you never could have saved him anyway.”
“I have to do this,” I remind myself. If I don’t shoot them, I can never look at myself again without feeling disgusted. The thought of my father crosses over me. Would he feel ashamed of me? He often told me I was created for great purposes, until that moment he taught me how to shoot a gun. I have a gift, being able to hit a target the size of the tip of a pencil from hundreds of yards away. Although, all of my greatness came to an end when I tried to hunt animals. On my own, I would practice hunting animals but I could never have the heart to finish it. My greatest secret, only known by me, is hidden from everybody else.
Watching both men like a hawk, I have only seconds remaining until somebody would eventually find me. I stand still in never-ending silence as I wait for the evidence.
After what seems like hours, the small man hands a little, clear bag with some pills in it to the tall man. No time to decipher if it really is the drug. I just wanna go home.
Slowly, I place my finger over the trigger and lined the gun up. Only two bullets remain that I have to make count. Starting with the small man, I aim for his heart. My fingers are as white as a ghost, tightly wrapping around the trigger like a snake around its victim. My fingers are soaked in sweat from top to bottom making my finger slip on and off. I’m not under control, but I take the shot anyway.
BOOM!! The shot of the gun echoes throughout the abandoned forest. He falls like a mighty oak.
The tall man stands puzzled as he stares at the bag, not even looking at his partner in crime that just died. Finally, after what seemed like hours, he notices his friend on the ground and looks around, until he finds me. But he is too late. I hold the gun up and take aim at the face that I finally recieve a decent look at. He looks vaguely familiar but what does it matter. He mumbles something but it is drowned out as if he is in shock. What he mumbles sounds a lot like my name but that is impossible.
I aim and wrap my ice cold finger around the deadly trigger.
Suddenly everything clicks in place. The delayed reaction to the short man’s death and the mumble that sounded like my name all makes sense to me now.
He was gone for years, but he did look familiar.
I am too late. Still shaking, my finger bumps the trigger. As the bullet takes off, I see my last glimpse of my father, crashing to the ground.