Flashback - Friedrich's P.O.V.

I stare into his blood shot eyes, one of them twitching from time to time and the pupils shaking. Not loads, just a little. I could still see the fear. I could see Death walking up the narrow street. His cloak swaying in the breeze. His hood concealing his face and one boney hand rising up. His finger outstretched, ready to touch the man. So close. I could feel his gaze on me, not the man about to fall into his arms, me. Waiting. Just one pull of the trigger, I heard him say. Or was that my conscious? Looking back to the man, I caught him snapping his gaze back to me. Who had he been looking at? Family? Friends? Or hoping to find his loved one? Hoping to share one last unsaid thought with them before he fell. Before the bullet sank into his skin. Before Death took his life away.

I don't know what I'm doing. He's an innocent man. He probably has a wife and kids. He hasn't done anything wrong. He just tried to cross the wall. But why? Why would he leave his family? Money? Better house? Food? Whatever it is, it must have been of great importance.

A cold breeze swept over the area and I realised barely seconds had passed since I pull the gun out. It had felt like years though. The scent of fear travelled up to my nose and I winced. I hated it. But what I hated more was the odour that followed, the odour of decaying, of predicted death, warning me no matter what I do, someone will die today.

I had only smelt it once before. When I was a child and my father had come back from work. Dressed in the exact same uniform that strangles me now. As soon as he had opened the door, I could smell it. It was like Death was behind him, following him. Like he was Death's servant. He had killed a man that day. I despised him for it. But what now? I'm doing the exact same. Well, they always say, like father like son...

A cry erupted from the crowd and brought me back to now. Snapping my head to where the cry came from, I saw a girl, probably around 15, run to her father. Her mother reached for her but she was already too far away. The man screamed to run away but she kept running towards him. Running like she could save him. Running into his arms, ready to hold him tightly as he would fall to his knees. But no. With tears streaming out of his eyes, he pushed the girl away with all his force. The crowd went silent. I lowered my gun. Even Death turned to the girl. Tilting his head. She lay on the ground on her back. Her elbows grazed. Her head tilted to the side. Her mouth open a little. Her eyes closed...

Her chest moving up and down slowly.

Sucking in a breath that I hadn't realised I'd been holding, just like everyone else in the crowd, I turned my gaze towards the man. How could he have done that? His face was emotionless. No fear anymore. No sadness. No hatred. He just stared at me as if asking me to do this quickly. I could see it in his eyes. He didn't want to die but he had just hurt his daughter. She wouldn't forgive him. His wife, her mother wouldn't. No one would forget.

Raising my gun once more, I closed my eyes for a minute, scrunching them tightly closed, praying to god. Please God, forgive me. Opening them, I looked into the man's eyes and he nodded. One simple quick nod. I raised the gun higher from where it was pointed at his chest up to his head. I would cause him no further agony. I wouldn't make him fall to the ground and have to put up with slowly dieing. His life slowly draining from his wound. No. I would make this one quick. As little pain as possible.

"Thank you." He mouthed and a small smile pulled at my lips as I pulled my finger back. Releasing the bullet and shooting it through the air and into his skull. Death snapped his head back to look to the man lying on the ground and I could sense a smile.

A scream echoed through my ears and a lady ran up to the man, crying. The crowd split into three, one part dissipating, one part looking after the girl, one part watching the wife cradle the man. No one could or would get in between the wife and him.

I dropped the gun, letting the strap around my shoulders catch it and letting it hang my by waist. Holding my hands up in front of me, I held them palm down. Taking a deep breath, I turned my hands around and there it was. The dark red blood of the man staining my hands forever.

A hand patted my shoulder and I turned my head to see my father, a small smile on his lips. He was proud. He could go back and say his son wasn't a coward. He could say his son had done his job. Why was he proud? I'm not. He patted me again before turning and walking off, greeting other guards, boasting about his son.

Looking back to the girl, her eyes still shut, her breathing still slow and steady.I wondered if she would be okay. If she would wake up. If she would have an injuries or would have to go to the hospital. Would she hate her father? Would she remember any of this happening? Would she remember anything?

I stayed put, watching the few people around her, waiting to hear her name. I knew her last name, Stein. She was the daughter of Robert Stein, the man I just shot. Yeah, I know of him. Knew of him? He was well known here. Everyone respected him. And I just shot him.

"Kirsten, please... Wake up, for me? Can you hear me? Kirsten?" A lady said, stroking back the girl's hair from her face and resting her head on her lap.

Kirsten.

Kirsten Stein.