“Got any last words?” The barrel of a .45 desert eagle pointed at the center of my eyebrows. The sweat that ran down my forehead could touch it. The words were a mere echo mixed in the jumble of thoughts that ran rampant in my head. Visions of my life were that of a blink, only stopping at certain ones for a few short seconds before moving onto the next one.

I saw my mom, my dad, and all my brothers. Their smiling faces, mom’s soft eyes and gentle voice. Dad’s rough way of showing his love with a headlock and arm decking. The hard pats on the back were also very comforting from the large man. Soft was not a word in his vocabulary, it was all my mom.

My brothers always rough housing with eachother. I dont remember a single time where there wasnt something being thrown at me, or i was throwing something back. Fin played rugby and had just gotten a scholarship to play in Canada, George was destined to go to MIT when he graduates high school. Dustin had already planned on opening his own resteraunt while he goes to culinary school, he always wanted to start out small with a food truck and then make his way up to a MIchellin star. We were always so proud of him. And then Henry just wanted to be a school teacher, but then changed to become a professor thanks to all of us pushing for him to go above that.

I was the only one that never set a goal in life, i planned on going to college and figuring it out then. Being a middle kid and the only girl had its ups and downs. Mom helped me out when i needed her the most, dad tried to get me to do the tomboy thing, and that felt like he wasnt happy that i was a girl. Like he only wanted boys.

Well that turned out to be true when I over heard a conversation between mom, dad, FIn and George. I was 17 at the time and already graduated high school at 16. The college i chose was waiting for the clearance for me to be admitted early. That conversation wasnt meant to be loud, but it got there when my dad finally said to my mom, “This is your fault, you knew all I wanted were sons.” He said it with such noncahlantance, such a calm unwavering tone you could a hair split in the silence that followed.

“My fault? I’m sorry but I distinctly remember telling you that I wanted at least one daughter!” There was a long pause and then some sniffles, “I dont regret our daughter, and I don’t regret following you to the firehouse to pick her back up!” She shrieked the remark that my father tried to surrender me. I had dissociated at this point, trying desperately to ignore the feeling of my heart shattering in my chest.

It was the next day that i got the acceptance letter from Stanford, i packed my things that night and left before anyone had the chance to have a thought about me. Mom got a note explaining everything, and she didnt stop blowing up my phone for the first 3days of college.

_Mom: Honey, please answer the phone. _ _Mom: I’m so proud of you for getting into Stanford! _ _Mom: I want to celebrate, please call me! Mom: Honey, please! Mom: I’m hurting! I just want to tell you how much I love you sweetheart! _None stop with the phone calls and texts, she’s also went to the lengths of sending flowers and balloons to my dorm room. Which now that I think about it, those flowers probably started wilting. I guess thats perfect timing given the situation I’ve been put in.

The man with the gun stared at me with emptiness deep in the void of his eyes. This was just another Monday at the office for him, offing people via his Boss’s word. I suppose there’s some comfort in that. Even in death no one will care that I’m gone, that’s less heart break that I have to think about.

“Hey bitch, you got something to say or not?” Another man walked up behind the one with the gun, but they looked so alike, maybe twins that got into the wrong business. I could feel my body ease the tension in my shoulders and neck. I have accepted my death a lot quicker than i thought.

This dark room in the back of some casino smelled of bad cigars and rotten whiskey. The walls had racks and shelves fillled with supplies, minus the one behind me. That wall had guns and knives hanging on it, a worn out blood stained work bench with jars of fingers in formaldehyde. Teeth littered the dirt covered floor with blood spilled about, it almost look like rust rather than a concrete floor.

I sit in an old steel chair with my wrists and ankles duct taped together, my waist taped as well to the back and bottom of the chair so I couldn’t escape. Not like i would want to with just how many people in this building have a gun within arms reach. They had taken the tape covering my mouth off hours ago, and ever since then I’ve been silent. Not too sure how to process this situation, or what I should say other than ‘I didn’t see anything! I’ll keep quiet!’.

“Stupid bitch is mute isn’t she? Just kill her if she isn’t even going to beg for her life.” The one walked back, speaking directly into my ear to emphasize i was dead either way. Then he sat atop the bench without a single care.

“You sure about that?” The one with the gun spoke, concern dusting his lips as the weapon pointed down now. No longer was it at my head, now it was pointed at my chest. I wish my heart would’ve sped up but it remained quiet.

“If she hasn’t talked yet, she isn’t going to talk at all.” His gruff voice pierced my ears. This was my time to prove someone wrong. The expectations put upon me weren’t worth anything mentionable. I achieved my own goals and walked my own path. I didn’t need anyone to fight for my life, and its sad to say that I’ve given up trying to fight for that.

“He’s right, might as well kill me.” The room went silent, as though a frost blown over and froze everyhthing. “It doesn’t matter what I have to say anyway, you’ll kill me regardless.”

“Holy shit she talks!”The gunman took a step back, genuinely shocked at my voice.

“No kidding…” the other jumped from the benched and walked up behind me. “Now what does this little bird have to say.”

“Wrong place, wrong time.” Again they froze. “I was trying to meet a friend and they clearly sent me to the wrong place.” Thinking back to when the guy who sat in front of me in Biochemistry, he did have this questionable tone in his voice that should’ve made me think a little harder about accepting his invitation to a house party tonight. This was all just one big misunderstanding thats now going to cost me my life. Great.

“Then why haven’t you beg for your life yet?”

“My life is simply not worth begging for. I’d rather have the redo if that’s the option in the next lifetime.” The words came from me freely. My explaination was enough for them to be satisfied. I closed my eyes and leaned my head back and forward to show that I accepted my fate and am willing to die. But after what felt like a longer time than necessary to be shot, i opened my eyes to see the twins had stepped out of the room. Very distinctly could i hear the shouted whispers of them arguing on rather to keep me alive or kill me. This was all very tiredsome, it shouldn’t be this hard to pull a trigger. How many people do they deal with that just willing accpet thier death? Clearly not very many.

“She said it was a mistake and has no clue…”

“Or she could be lying?!”

“No one i remember killing has ever willingly leaned into my gun! Explain that!” A heavy sigh that was a little too loud slipped past my lips.

“I can hear you two fighting in there!!” Annoyance drenched my statement. The two of them re-enter the room, brooding anger still resting on each of their facees. “Please, just get it over with. I’m tired and need to be up at 6am for a morning class. Either kill me or don’t. Not much changes for me other than a few scrapes and bruises.”

“Why aren’t you scared? You should be begging for us to let you go, telling us any and all information regardless if its useful to us.” It never crossed my mind to be scared. Over the years ive learned to become permanently disconnected from my emotions. Returniong the same blank stare, i open my mouth and the most monotoned sarcastic scream comes out.

“Ahhhh….please do not kill me. I have so much to live for.” Needless to say, they were not impressed with how i was acting now.

“You took all the enjoyment out of this.” As if shifting the blame onto me for being kidnapped, I gave a sarcastic pouty face.

“Oh I am so very sorry.” My voice monotoned, “If you haven’t gotten it through your thick skulls…I HAVE NOTHING!!! My mom barely cares about me, my dad wants me to be on of the boys, and my brothers don’t even know i exist!” The reality was sinking in faster than i was able to hold it above the water. Tears prickled my eyes, threatening to fall. “Just kill me, I’m done with this life. I’ve been done.” The crack in my words sent me over, falling just like my tears.

To beg for them to kill me and then to get ridiculed for wanting to die, what kind of irony is that? All of this over a misunderstanding. Perfect.