I searched for about five minutes and finally found my way back.
Everyone is taking aim at their specific targets. I joined them and was given a gun to shoot. Rather than taking aim, I looked at the gun in my hands.
Guns have always brought back bad memories.
I hate this tool. I hate the weight of it in my hands and the memories that come rushing back whenever I hold one.
My father was killed by a gun.
For a long time, that was all I could associate it with. Death. Loss. The moment that changed everything.
And yet, deep down, there's a part of me that can't completely hate it.
Because the same weapon that took my father from me also helped me get rid of that bastard.
I know it sounds twisted, but I can't deny it. There's hatred attached to this gun, but there's also a strange sense of gratitude.
Maybe that's why, whenever I hold one, I can never decide whether I want to throw it away or hold on a little tighter.
"There are only 3 bullets in the gun handed to you. So at least one out of them must be direct at the midpoint. Those who fail will have to face the punishment given by the general himself." The instructor barked orders at us.
Hearing him mentioned brought my anger back.
The instructor turned to face us all. "Ready. Aim. Shoot."
The sound of gunfire echoed all around us. We had all been given bulletproof jackets as a precaution. After all, you never know how clumsy someone might be, especially when there are guns involved.
I raised my weapon, took aim, and fired.
One bullet after another hit the target exactly where I intended. By the time I had emptied the gun, every shot had landed perfectly.
Silence.
I lowered the gun and looked around.
Everyone was staring at me with shocked expressions.
I suppose they had a reason to stare. I had practically made holes in the center of every target, and, from what I could tell, I had done the best out of everyone.
Still, shouldn't they be taking aim at their own targets instead of staring at me? Had they never seen someone shoot before?
I didn't think much of it until I noticed the General.
He was back, standing among the others, and he was looking at me with the same expression as everyone else.
For some reason, that made me uncomfortable.
Very uncomfortable.
I hadn't minded everyone else staring at me. But seeing that expression on his face made me suddenly aware of myself. I shifted slightly, wondering what exactly he had found so surprising.
Most of the others failed to complete the task. They were ordered to do fifty push-ups and, as an additional punishment, wouldn't be given lunch that day.
Those who passed were handed bows and arrows.
I took mine and looked at it for a moment.
The instructor sighed before addressing us.
"I know you're all wondering why you've been given these bows."
He paused, as if the answer should have been obvious.
"Just to aim and shoot. No other reason."
Another sigh.
"Now, on your marks. Take aim."
He stood at one corner to judge us, apparently.
"There are only two arrows, so at least one of them should be at the midpoint. Got it."
After hearing the instructor, we all took our positions and aimed at our targets.
I was confident about this one too. My aim was better than the best, so of course, I knew how to handle a bow and arrow just as well as a gun.
I released my first arrow.
It flew straight toward the target and landed perfectly in the center, passing through the hole my bullet had already made. Half of the arrow disappeared through the target, leaving only its back end visible.
I couldn't help the evil grin that spread across my face.
I pulled out another arrow, drew the string, and released it.
The second arrow struck the first one dead center, completely piercing it.
Well.
That was satisfying.
By the end of the test, only six of us had managed to pass. The others stood around, already preparing themselves for whatever punishment was about to come their way.
As for the six of us who passed, we were told to step aside and were given fifteen minutes to rest.
Fifteen minutes.
I'll take it.
Riley came and just had to satisfy his curiosity. "How did you do that? I mean, how you were able to shoot that well."
"Nothing. I have been practicing for a long time." A simple shrug seemed like a good approach to not stand out with my words.
Kyson pushed Riley aside to state his opinions. "It wasn't that good. It was just okay. Don't exaggerate."
This Hawk can't even appreciate it, but who am I to even expect this from him?
The five people included me, Jackson, Riley, Kyson, and a civilian from District 1.
The sound of boots, a sound that I have now associated with someone, was coming in our direction.
Now what does he want?
"Good job to you all."
"Brother, oh, I mean, General, can you rank us according to our performances?" Kyson, with anticipation, asked his brother, umm...the general.
Why do I feel like he's looking at the General with pleading eyes?
He almost looked as if his entire fate depended on whatever answer the general was about to give.
"Third to Kyson, second to Riley, and first to Rosen." He turned to face me. For what? My reaction?
I knew I should show some kind of expression after being placed first by him, but no expression could hide the irritation I was feeling inside.
Jackson nodded, looking at me as though he was trying to make sure I understood that he was complimenting me.
"General, you chose right. His aim was perfect."
"Thank you." I gave Jackson a small smile in return.
Kyson, meanwhile, once again had that ugly expression on his face. There was absolutely nothing anyone could do about it.
Could they?
I suppose not.
Maybe he was simply born with that expression.