The mirror reflects dazed hazel eyes and a guilty conscience. Sculpted, bulging muscles; ruggedly handsome facial features. As the assassin contemplates his actions. A pang of guilt hovers in his heart. Wishing he could take it all back.
A single tear rolls down his cheeck. The metal shines in the moonlight. Beautiful yet dangerous; good but bad. A way out yet a trap. He obsures it in his hardened hands. The barrel stares back at him as if knowing his hearts secrets. "Why o why did I do this?" His mind raced back to all his doings. The girl. Jumping and playing in the sunlight, amongst the daffodils. Then the shot. A grotesquely defeaning sound. The girl falls.

The hitman teleports back into the present. Even more overwhelmed by grief and guilt; the tears start streaming down.
He then screams and yells. Infuriated at himself. Destructive, and diminishing; heartless yet filled with emotions.

"Why did I choose this path?" He gazed out into the oblivious night. In the darkness he saw his heart. Black. He felt the chilling metal on the skin of his palm. It slowly moved up. Now it was the time to stop all the bloodshed by taking the last soul. The barrel pressed against his perspiring forehead. His. The cocking of the gun; the pressing of the trigger. The bullet grazing the insides of the barrel.

The bullet penetrating his skin, crushing through his skull, tearing apart his flesh. Crossing through his brain and exiting through the back of the skull. To end it once and for all.