Right To Kill

I sat still. Watching. Listening. She had obviously been trained at some point. She fought well. But she was piteously outnumbered and tiring fast. I know what you would have done. You'd have unsheathed your sword and ran in to help her. You were strong, noble. But that doesn't matter anymore. I am not you. I got up. Ready to walk away. They had her pinned to the floor. One had a gun to her head. I would have carried on walking. But for one thing.
"I hope you're proud of your life!" She spat at one of them. A memory stirred.
It was the same thing you had said, all those years back. You had the same loathing and contempt in your voice. The same fierce pride. I looked back at her, over my shoulder. Grabbed my sword hilt. It felt warm, alive. Ready to kill. The first one didn't know what had hit him. My swordhand sung. It was as precise and fluid as a year back, when you had sparred with me. Within ten seconds, all five men lay dead. They hadn't even fought. Too shocked. The girl was already on her feet. Not just that, but in a fighting stance.
Definatly an apprentice. Always on the edge, eager to bring tidbits of victory back to their masters. I was the same once.
She has no weapon that I could see, and apprently no sence of logic either.
"If I've just killed them, why would I harm you." I grunted. Ready to walk away again. It was a rhetorical question.
"If you had the heart and mind to take the life of a human, why would I be different" She growled back. Another rhetorical question. Another memory stirred. One of you.

You sat on your chair by the fire, looking at me with your pale, warm eyes. You'd explained to me how no man, even the highest general, had the true rights to take another mans life.
"Every life is equal," You had said. "From our dear old Queen to the lowliest street scum. Thier all the same value, and no one has prerogative over the other to take that life away. No man has the right to kill."

I'd sat captivated. Taking in everything. Believing every word. This girl reminded me of you. Yet she was only 14, 15. She was fierce and agressive looking, Black combat trousers and black tank top. Black boots. Blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail. Green eyes glaring fiercely at me. Strong, sturdy build. A look about her that any average citizen wouldn't want to mess with.
I was amused by her stance.
"You think a girl like you could beat an armed man like me?" I smirked to myself, then turned to walk away. You would have stayed and helped her, tending to the deep cut on her jawline, giving her food and attention. Most likely taken her back to her mentor.

But I'm not you. I'm a killer, a murderer.

I killed you.