Page 75 of Sharing Silence

Seeing her like this makes me wonder how I kept to myself for nine years. Maybe it’s because she was always standoffish in my presence, and now she’s looking at me like I’m more than her annoying brother-in-law.

“How about I teach you something now?” I suggest.

Her smile almost knocks my heart clean out of my chest. “Like what?”

Twenty minutes later, we’re outside, a sniper rifle in front of us. We’re lying on a tarp and have a blanket over us, but Silence is still shivering as she looks down the sight. Our breath fogs, and her nose is pink, but she remains focused.

“What exactly am I shooting? Don’t say deer. I won’t shoot a deer.”

“I’m not a fucking monster, Q,” I say. “Just a tree.”

She frowns. “A tree? That’s easy.”

“It’s really not.”

“Pah.” She wiggles her body as she presses her eye to the sight, her finger resting on the trigger.

“Which one are you going for?”

“The creepy dying one next to the wall,” she says. “You’re going down, sucker.”

I snort. “Quit it with the trash talk. You’re scaring me.”

She laughs, then refocuses. “I have to breathe out, right? That’s what they do in the movies.”

“That’s more for a moving target, but you can if you want to.” She wiggles again, and I laugh. “You keep shimmying. Just take the shot.”

“I’m nervous!”

“The tree needs to die, Silence. Take the shot.”

She wets her lips, breathing out slowly, and her finger twitches—but she doesn’t squeeze the trigger.

It isn’t because she can’t do it. I saw the determination in her eyes when she faced off against Ryker. She’s holding back for another reason.

I shift closer to her, my lips by her ear. “Picture someone who does deserve to die.” Her breathing increases, and she swallows hard. “Who deserves to die, Q?”

She rolls her lips together. “No one.”

“Liar.” I kiss her earlobe, and she leans into me slightly. “There’s nothing wrong with fighting back. Choosing your life over theirs isn’t a sin. This”—I tap the rifle—“is you taking control. Dead men aren’t a threat.”

The tenseness in her body seems to shove into mine, and I’m acutely aware that I hate doing this to her. This isn’t teasing, it’s unearthing pain, and I don’t want her to hurt—but sometimes it’s necessary.

“He’s already dead,” she whispers.

I watch her, but she’s still focused on the sight. “Did you kill him?”

“No.”

“Then this is your chance. Why does he deserve to die, Silence?”

Her lip trembles. “Because he took everything from me.”

She squeezes the trigger.

The kickback has her pulling in a breath, but she remains steady. The bullet tears through the dead tree, wood splintering and spitting across the wall.

She lifts her head from the sight, eyes wide, lips parted.