A Short Story: Silence

Silence

            The moment I have been waiting for all my life has finally come.  The victim, unaware of the Dragunov SVD sniper rifle sighted in on his right temple, stands still as he waits to board the plane.  I can see a thick mist of vapor as he exhales into the cold, dark night.  It almost pains me to stain the silence of the new fallen snow and gentle breeze with red.  All that remains is to pull the trigger.

            I vividly remember a night like tonight, safely at home laying by a roaring fire in the fireplace.  My mother, Gizla Mirinov, slowly washes the dishes from dinner, probably worried sick about Father.  I couldn’t muster up the strength to think of Father anymore, dead to me long ago.  As I looked over at my mother, I saw a glimmer, tears running down her cheek which she quickly concealed behind her shirt cuff.

            Trying harder not to think of Father, I thought of him more.  When he joined the Mafia, I could never forgive him.  After he abandoned us, I remained to see my mother’s sadness and pain; I took the role of being in charge of the house; I had to protect our household that he had abandoned for our own safety.  From that event on, everything that has happened to my family I blame on Father.

            Mother and I did our best to make due without Father.  I remember waking up early every weekday morning to hunt for food.  Father left his old hunting rifle which I had shot with him a few times and now claimed as my own, but I still struggled with my aiming.   On a warmer morning, a few weeks later, I decided to practice aiming at targets that I constructed out of snow.  I still feel the frigid wind biting at my numbing fingers as I practiced shooting the targets.  Finally, deciding that I had wasted enough ammo and needed to find some food, I loaded up my equipment and started to look for any traces of animals.  I can still recall a rumbling sound that raised goose bumps on my neck; a bear had heard my practice session and now crept closely behind me.  Rigid, I slowly peeked over my shoulder to see a bear, only twenty feet from me, watching my every movement!  I carefully shouldered my gun, focusing all my attention on aiming at the bear, and squeezed the trigger.  The bear fell to the cold ground, shot squarely between the eyes.  At first I rejoiced because my mother and I would have meat for a while, but I quickly felt sadness.  As I inspected the bear I felt ashamed for spilling its blood, ending this majestic creature’s life with such aggression.  I still feel sympathy ending other animals’ lives, even when I need to for survival.

            Several months after Father had left, a knock on the door dully pierced the peaceful winter evening.  Mother quickly lit a candle and crept over to the door.  I can still feel the chill as my mother opened the door, letting the cold, dark night into our home.  Outside stood several men, but only one caught my eye.  A person, bound at the wrists with a black sack over his head seemed familiar to me.  One of the other men shoved the bound figure into the middle of our living room, the rest filing in behind.  A dark man entered in last, wearing a cruel smile on his face.

“Your husband has decided he no longer wants to be a part of our brotherhood.”

            The dark man who seemed to be the leader said.

“Your husband will not only pay the price of release but you shall also.” 

 The leader shoved the bound person onto the hard wooden floor of our living room and ripped off the hood to reveal my father, bruises covering his face.  I can still hear my mother screaming as the mafia leader drew a revolver from his coat and aimed at my father’s head.  Changing his mind, he shot my mother, bringing silence again to the dreadful night.  I could barely compress a scream, a scream that seemed to engulf my entire being as I saw Father’s last moments.

            I used every ounce of strength I had to battle the grief and rage that radiated inside me, channeling my pain just to quietly roll under the living room coach and keep my mouth shut.  From that moment on, that day permeates around one name that reverberates through my mind, accidentally uttered by one of the men:  General Glazkov.

            Father must have kept my identity a secret from the Mafia or I would surely have been killed also.  The next morning felt unreal to me.  Before I opened my eyes, I ushered a quiet prayer that the following day’s occurrences had just been a dream.  I can still recall opening my eyes, immediately seeing the past events turn to life, horrifically reoccurring before my eyes.  Unable to stand, I lied down, my body a lifeless silhouette on the wooden cabin floor that would soon be a lost memory, drifting endlessly in the rifts of my mind.  Hours later, I forced myself to get up, gathering only the most necessary materials of life, set the cabin on fire, and abandoned the site for good.  That day still engulfs my thoughts and emotions from time to time, I had never felt so entirely alone in my life.

            I feel a chill run down my spine as I focus on the situation at hand.  There will be no turning back after I kill General Glazkov, the creature who has brought so much pain to my family.  I am the only one that’s alive to seek revenge; I can finally redeem myself for not protecting my mother from danger as Father had instructed me to do.  The moment I have been waiting so unimaginably long for has finally come.  All that remains is to pull the trigger.