Remorse
Anon asked: I have a mini writing challenge for you! Can you write a fic with little to no dialogue????
Pair: DBH Connor x Reader
Warnings: Mention of death (nothing graphic but just in case)
Word Count: 643 counts
A/N: so I decided to write one of the prompts on my writing challenge...just for the heck of it. I tried writing as little dialogue as possible...not sure if it worked. I have no idea what I wrote but enjoy (: A huge thank you to @spectacular-spiderboy for reading over this!
Connor stared at your front door, hesitant on alerting you of his presence. He knew what he had to do, but could he go through with it?
“Take care of them, or we will.” he heard Amanda’s voice echo in his mind.
The cold gun which sat in its holster was pressed against his back making him more anxious than he was.
It shouldn’t be him, it shouldn't have to be him, yet it was. He straightened up and quickly knocked the door three times. After a few seconds of waiting, he heard the clicking of the lock and watched as the door opened in front of him.
He gazed at your appearance, taking everything in for the last time. He studied your face, your crooked smile, the bags under your eyes from your lack of sleep, and the light freckles which decorated your cheeks. He memorized your imperfections that you hated but he loved.
“Hi Connor,” you said, snapping him out of his thoughts.
Your voice was calming to him, like a lullaby that he wished he could play forever.
How could he go through with this? How could he follow his code? How could he exterminate the only thing that kept him sane?
“Hi,” he said with a shaky voice, “may I come in?”
“Of course,” you said before opening the door wider for him.
Connor paused for a second contemplating his next move. If he walked in, there was no walking out.
The point of no return.
He knew that if he walked in, everything would be different. Could he take that chance?
Connor looked at you once more. You had a small smile on your face; so warm, so welcoming, so clueless. You were innocent in all of this. You should be the one in charge of how your life would play out, not him. You didn’t deserve what was to come.
Connor slowly lifted his right foot and crossed the invisible barrier that separated him from you. His left foot quickly followed and before he knew it, the door closed behind him. He flinched slightly at the sound of the metal lock.
He was trapped.
“Is everything okay?” you asked him.
He wanted so bad to tell you the truth, that everything was not okay and that the sole purpose of his visit was not to seek comfort but to end it.
“Yeah, I just wanted to talk,” he lied, the feeling of the gun pressing against his back taunted him with its presence.
You nodded before replying, “Let me just turn off the stove.”
He wished he could say that all the two of you did was talk that night. He wished he could say that he warned you about the true reason for his visit and told you to run away. He wished he could say that he didn’t go through with the mission that he knew would cause him so much anguish. He wished he could say that he left your apartment the same way as he did when he arrived.
However, that just wasn’t the truth.
The truth was that the last sound you would ever hear would be the sound of a gun echoing throughout the room. The truth was that the last memory he would have of you would be the sight of your body lying on the cold hard floor, not your smile or your laugh, but a lifeless body.
Connor’s hand was shaking, not from the power of the gun, but from the realization of what he had done.
“Well done Connor, return to the Cyberlife and await further instructions,” Amanda said with a smile.
How could she congratulate him on what he had done? How could she smile after witnessing death? How could she be so cruel?
Connor felt a tear slowly fall from his eye, his LED flickering between yellow and red. He knew what he did was wrong, but he was only following his orders. He was a machine, and it was your fault that you made him think otherwise.
But how could he blame his actions on you? You were so kind to him, the only one who didn’t look disgusted at his appearance, the only one who actually treated him like an equal, the only one who cared about his thoughts.
Connor shook his head trying to remove these thoughts from his head. He was a machine, nothing more.
Connor wiped away the tear on his face with the back of his hand, placed his gun back in its holster, straightened his tie and left.
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