My cat. My mouse.

I can feel the tension. The contracting muscles that grip slowly against my throat. My jaw clenches tightly and I stare ahead, the scope of my rifle covered by foliage picked from some bushes a couple miles back. The target I'd been tracking for months finally chooses a spot to rest. Quietly my breath begins to slow down and I rest firmly on my stomach in a prone position. Both eyes are open, one closing slowly and I nod in silence to myself. I've been through the scenario a million times over in my head. Kill him. Kill myself. Be done with the world and its problems. The old option of going down into Brazil is gone now that there are warrants for my arrest all over the south side of the country. The bastard doesn't even know I'm coming for him.

Now all I can hear is my heart beat as it throbs against my ears. I wish I could smile but my face has become stone tense. I think about how my face must appear beet red. My finger traces quietly along the trigger. I didn't bother with a suppressor. Its a one shot job. Two shots if he's lucky, but no more than that. I only brought three bullets, an extra just in case.

He's moving again. He seems to be fishing around in his backpack, pulling out a bag of marsh mellows and stabs it with a stick he brought from home. "Bastard..." I mumble this ever so softly, yet that's it, returning back to my quiet peek-a-boo at the target. He does the same routine every year. Every damned year its the same. He goes to the forest every year on the same day, almost the same intervals of hours. I would know. Wasting four years, this being the fifth and last year I would ever do this again. I sigh quietly and return to breathing exclusively through my nose, exhaling from my lips every so often as I grip at the handle of my gun. The cross hairs are aimed at his head, yet I can't pull the trigger just yet. Its been several hours already. He hasn't done a damn thing out of the ordinary... I notice he's shifting around on the ground and he pulls something out of his bag again. He brings the object to his eyes and seems to turn. Its that moment I realize everything. He's known about me this whole time.

The man stares quietly at me and smirks that asshole of a grin. Before I can pull the trigger to shoot the binoculars off him as well as probably his whole damn head I hear a click behind me. Damn... He set me up. Though.. at the same time I realize this is just exactly what I wanted to happen. I knew it was going to happen one way or another. At least this time I'm not going to be wasting any ammo. I yank back on the trigger and the loud crack from the barrel sends the shock wave through my body. The man who ambushed me reacts and fires twice into me. I try to scream in pain by instinct. My body won't let me. I hoped it wouldn't. The man does nothing, as far as I can tell. He assumes I'm dead. I assume I'm going to die. My vision blurs and I notice he looks over where the Target was. He seems to curse and he kicks my side roughly, screaming obscenities which tells me I made my shot count. He runs down hill to loot the dead body of the man I killed. I close my eyes and wait for the darkness to take me.

There's a silent noise in the distant. Its almost blaring. Everything fades to darkness, shadows appearing around me. I suppose this is what death is like, and I let the cold take me, the noise getting louder and louder before slowly stopping and I let out a sigh of relief, going into a sweet, well deserved sleep.