First Kill (Friday Flash Fiction)

She looked down at her trembling hand, the weapon she grasped suddenly seeming to weigh fifty pounds.

She hadn’t signed up for this.

It had always seemed so easy for her. She’d been at the top of her class in the academy. Honors and the approval of superiors had never been unreachable goals. She’d fostered an attitude of courage and a work ethic that others in her class admired, if not begrudgingly. She’d been bent on proving that a woman could do as well as a man in law enforcement. She believed that with all her heart.

At least she had up until about thirty seconds ago.

The body of the man lay crumpled on the ground not ten feet away. Blood pounded in her ears, still ringing from the sound of the shot. She noticed her breathing had become heavy and worked to control it. The effects of the adrenaline coursing through her body made her head spin.

The suspect was barely out of his teens. Hardly more than a boy.

In an instant, she thought of all the things she didn’t want to consider. She thought of this person’s life. She thought of all the years of life that this man would never experience, never see. She thought of his mother, who would soon hear the news that her son was not only a criminal, but was also dead.

She was a mother too.

She felt the hand on her shoulder. “You okay, kid?” The sergeant’s voice broke through her thoughts. She nodded solemnly. “Close call.” He motioned to the bullet hole in the dingy wall behind her. She considered it, wondering why she didn’t feel relieved that she was a better shot than the suspect.

She’d ended his life before he’d taken hers.

It was little comfort.