She smiled, slow, worse than a sneer this time. A snarl. “I am savage,” she said, and then laughed the most hideous laughter I have ever heard, as if she relished my barbs. She misunderstood me. She would always misunderstand me. “And yes, I am selfish. So, shoot me.” And so, I did. In the shadow of a second, I slid open my drawer, picked up my gun, and, cold as the metal that touched my palm, I shot her square between the eyes and wiped the laughter from her face.
