Fear.

My arm was outstretched but the cold weight of the gun in my hand was trying to drag it down, like someone had handed me a double decker bus and expected me to hold it up. The connotation was utterly ridiculous and, in a place where you had to learn to appreciate the little things, I found it hard not to smile. Though, from the corner of my eye I saw the man to my left, dressed all in black, including a ski mask, take a step forwards and fidget with his larger, far more intimidating gun and so the smile quickly fell.

The dim empty room I was in smelt of urine, quite ironic seeing as I was almost pissing myself with fear. I had to suppress another smirk.

To anyone else in this room (obviously excluding the one who was bound and gagged) the task would be easy, so damn easy for one of these ruthless, sick people to kill an innocent civilian.

Who in their right mind thought this would be easy on the person who wasn't experienced in this particular field. Well, these people weren't in their right minds, were they? Far from it, I should think. They were disturbed and probably had some kind of un-diagnosed mental disorder.

Detachment is hard.

I needed to detach myself from this person. That would make it easier, right? Through the haze of fear and panic, thoughts like “You can’t kill someone you don’t know” flowed through my mind. 
Do the right thing and die? Don’t do the right thing, maybe die anyway, definitely be convicted for murder, and have to live with it for the rest of my life? Easy way out, my ass.

That’s what they offered me, an easy way out. Was it? I don’t think so.

When I think about it, humans truly are selfish. I’d always tried my hardest not to live up to that reputation, the reputation everyone else seems to hold, but in the end every human being has a natural instinct to try and save themselves above anyone else. So why now, in this particular moment, is my instinct failing me?

Just then there was an ear piercing scream, one that tore my heart from its chest, like a hand had pushed past flesh and bone to grab and just squeeze until all the blood had been drained.

The scream was caused by a gunshot. To who or what, I have no idea, but I’d closed my eyes. What was said about that cat? “Until you open the box, the cat is both dead and alive.” Well at that moment I must of have Schrödinger's eyelids for all that I knew.

I mentally checked myself for pain but felt none. So it wasn't me that was shot.

I started to cautiously open my eyes to see the aftermath and the first thing that caught my attention was the empty room. The guards had all fled and left behind no trace of ever being there. I didn't even hear them leave.

I drew my attention the hostage who was still currently tied to the chair. There was no blood pouring from their face and they had their eyes closed.

I quickly rushed to them so see if they were okay. I was no doctor, but I tired my hardest to look for signs of damage.

We’d both been beaten up pretty badly. I had several bruises forming all over my face and chest. The hostage didn't have as many injuries on show as I did but I did know that the ones they did have, hurt like hell. Mine did.

I went to untie their binds when I saw that their wrists were mangled and bleeding from several attempts at trying to get free. I knew that there would be no way to fidget free as the rope they'd used was ridiculously strong so fortunately my wrists just had small rashes, but theirs would need treating, maybe stitches? I'm no doctor but it looked deep, painful, and would probably leave scars. Like they needed a reminder of today.

I carefully put both my hands on either side of their face and tried to soothe them by lightly stroking my thumb on their cheek and offering words of comfort as I slowly started to untie them. Groans of pain were muffled by the piece of cloth still tied around their mouth and I knew that this wasn't easy for the hostage, but the quicker we got out of that place, the less chance we had of the guards coming back.