‘Aaron, you don’t want to kill this boy…’ Sam tried to mask the hurt in his voice, but Aaron’s words were hitting him hard. Was that how he was perceived? Not as a force of good but just as a weapon of vengeance?
‘Why do you get to choose who lives and dies? What gives you the right to decide whether one life is worth more than another?’ Aaron’s tears were full force now, his breathing intensifying as well as his grip around the gun. ‘He took my daughter, Sam. The police did nothing. I appreciate that you tried but you haven’t found her. She’s gone.’
‘She’s still out there,’ Sam pleaded. ‘I’ve tracked the people responsible and I’m waiting for a call to tell me where.’
‘Waiting. Waiting. Waiting,’ Aaron said drunkenly, swaying slightly as the whisky flowed through him. ‘I’m tired of waiting. I might not have my little girl back, but I won’t let them get away with it. So do what you do and kill him.’
‘Aaron, you need to give me the gun.’
‘Kill him.’ Aaron repeated, his emphasis getting louder with fury.
‘Killing a teenage kid isn’t going to bring her back. Letting me go is.’
‘KILL HIM!’ Aaron screamed, lifting the gun once more. As soon as he did, Sam expertly swung a hand to the back of his jeans and pulled up his own pistol, both hands wrapped around the handle, his finger resting on the trigger. Aaron stumbled back, colliding with the bench and sending the bottle of whisky to an explosive journey to the concrete below. The sound of the smashing glass made the young captive jolt in the boot, his weeping increasing. Aaron, his hand shaking, lifted his gun back at Sam, who stood firmly.
‘You do it,’ Sam said coldly.
‘W-w-what?’ Aaron eventually stuttered, his words catching in throat.
‘You want him dead. You kill him.’ Sam kept the gun pointed squarely at the drunk’s forehead. The eyes that were filled with furious tears were now wide with terror.
‘B-but I…’
‘You think it’s so easy, then you do it. Like you said, your daughter is gone. This boy is responsible. So kill him,’ Sam demanded, stepping forward towards Aaron who cowered slightly.
‘B-b-but…’
‘Come on, Aaron. Your daughter is probably being raped or beaten as we speak and you did nothing to save her. Could do nothing,’ Sam said through gritted teeth. ‘This boy, this young kid who has been forced into the life by manipulative adults is the reason she was taken in the first place. So kill him.’
Aaron sobbed as he stepped forward, a wave of regret crashing into him as he looked at the outcome of his actions. The young kid wept uncontrollably, hearing every word of the two men arguing over who was going to end his life. After taking a few more short breaths, Aaron lowered his arm, the gun dropping to his side and he turned back to Sam, defeated.
‘I can’t.’
Sam clicked off the safety.
‘Kill him, or I will kill you.’
Aaron stumbled back, his calves connecting with the bonnet.
‘What?’
‘You heard me. Like you said, this is easy for me. Killing people is what I do. You have made it clear to me that this boy deserves to die. So either you put a bullet in his head or I’ll put a bullet in yours and leave your daughter to rot.’
Aaron shook. Sam’s sudden, cold turn had blindsided him and he felt the wooziness of alcohol beginning to take control of his body. He thought of his daughter, alone and scared. He imagined her hands bound, her eyes covered, and the terrifying voices of two men who were deciding whether to kill her or not.
He realised then that he was no better than those who had taken his daughter. The young adult in the back of his car was as vulnerable as his daughter had been, only he had been taken in a different way. He had been coerced into gang culture by adults who preyed off the poverty of youth.
This young man had lured his daughter to a fate worse than death. But he didn’t deserve to die.
‘I can’t,’ Aaron finally uttered.
‘Last chance,’ Sam said, hating himself for every moment of this. ‘Kill him or you will never see her again.’
At that moment, Aaron hunched over to the side and puked. Streams of vomit splashed against the concrete, ricocheting back against the car wheel. As he furiously threw up, he wept for the path he had fallen down. A week ago, he was just a single father, trying his best to establish a relationship with a hurt teenage girl who mourned for her mother.
Now he was holding teenagers at gun point and aiding wanted fugitives.
The last of the vomit hit the concrete and he stayed hunched on all fours, his back jack-knifing as he took in deep, full breaths.
Sam re-engaged the safety on his gun and tucked it back into the waistband of his jeans. He stepped forward and rested a comforting hand on Aaron’s back. The last four years had ebbed away at his empathy, but it hadn’t made him a monster. Sam knew he was no hero, but he also knew he wasn’t the monster people like Singh painted him out to be. As Aaron’s breathing slowed to a more regular pace, Sam helped him to his feet. He smiled uncomfortably as Aaron dabbed at his eyes, regaining his composure.
‘I couldn’t do it,’ Aaron eventually said, embarrassed.
‘Believe me, you wouldn’t have killed him even if you wanted to.’
‘But I would have,’ Aaron said, regrettably looking back at the young boy held captive. ‘I really would have.’
‘No, you wouldn’t,’ Sam reiterated, bending down to pick up the pistol Aaron had dropped on the floor. As he lifted it, he expertly slid the clip from the handle. It was empty. ‘I took the liberty of emptying this
