The secret to a sniper’s heart

New York

Emily Gene Maxwell was born on September 22, 1999 in Montana. Ahe was born in a family of five older brothers, a drunk father and junkie mother. She had always thought her family was cool. When Emily was 10, her father put her first handgun in her hands and taught her how to disassemble it, clean it and put it back together. He had her do this until she managed it in under five minutes. Then he taught her how to shoot. First he showed her how to hold the gun, use the safety and how to refill the clip. He put up a couple glass bottles, and told her to shoot them. It took her a long time, but eventually she managed to shoot them all down in a row. She was told to do this a few more times, until she could aim perfectly. When she mastered it, her father moved the target’s away, and when she knew that, he placed her targets on a rope and let it swing, making her shoot in a moving target.

At the age of 15, she was an excellent shooter. Her father placed her first rifle in her hands, and showed her how to clean it first, as he did with her handgun. When she managed to do it in under five minutes, he taught her how to shoot it. What he didn’t tell her, however, was the kickback. She aimed at her old glass bottles, aimed and shot. She screamed in pain when the kickback almost broke her arm. She laid away from it for a few days, until she could shoot again. This time, however, she knew when it came, and was able to prepare for it, only slightly groaning in pain. At 16, he finally took her hunting with her brothers and father. Her father had placed a large scope on the barrel, and she had managed to shoot a moose their first time.

After that, every time the men were hunting, she came with them. Then she turned 18, and everything changed.

The night of her 18th birthday, as she was getting ready for bed, her father called her to the room he shared with her mother. Nervous, she did as he said, fingering with the hem of her nightgown. When she entered the room, he motioned for her to sit on his lap, her mother asleep next to him. Not thinking to much about it, Emily sank down in her father’s lap, and she felt sick when his hands started feeling around her body. “I have a job for you now that you’re 18” he said as his hand slowly crept up the hem of the nightgown. Emily said nothing , to afraid of the outcome. His hands slid higher up her bare leg as his lips traced her shoulder. He kept whispering in her ear, and she whimpered slightly. “You’re mother doesn’t attract me anymore” his hand touched the outline of her black panties, “so you will be my little slut. Every day and night you will lay in this bed, naked, waiting for me to take you whenever I wish, and beg me to never stop” he whisper as his fingers slide inside her panties to her most intimate place. He spread her legs a bit more and slowly moved his fingers around her nub as he kissed her. His lips slowly farted inside her mouth as her clenched teeth blocked him, and he added more pressure on her secret spot, making her gasp and tremble. Her mind was screaming that this was wrong, that a father never should touch his daughter this way, but her body betrayed her. She felt his hard erection press against her ass, as his hand continued the torture. He sped his movements up a bit more, and kept pressure until she gasped and the wetness gushed out of her. Her breath was heaving, and she was scared but also excited of what came next. He patter her ass and helped her up. “Tomorrow night, you will meet me in this very bed, naked. Shave your p***y and spread your legs as you wait for me. If you’re lucky, I might let your mother have a taste of that little snatch as I thrust my hard c**k inside you” he promised, and as she was slowly backing away, she saw him starting to caress her mother down there, with the same finger he had used on her. Emily walked fast to her room and removed her clothes as tears welled up in her eyes. She grabbed clean underwear and a towel and ram to the bathroom and locked the door. Shaking, she turned on the water and stepped in, not caring that the water was freezing. She began washing her body, before grabbing soap and started scrubbing her lower body until it was red and bleeding. She rinsed the soap and stepped out, still feeling her father’s touch on her.

As Emily walked to her bedroom, she made a decision. She heard her mother’s loud moans and her father’s grunts, knowing he was picturing her, and she closed her door and got dressed. She put on a pair of sweatpants and an oversized sweatshirt, a pair of thick socks. Then she grabbed her winter shoes, and another pair, and found her bag. Quietly she filled it with clothes and the extra shoes before going under her bed and lifted the loose floorboard. Inside was all her money. It wasn’t much, but it was something. She put the bills in her wallet and placed it in her bag before grabbing a thick jacket. She grabbed a few books as well, to read on the bus, and then she opened the window and tossed down her bag and jacket. She put her shoes on and a hat and started climbing down the water drain. The minute her legs landed on the ground, she put on her jacket, picked up her bag and ran. She ran to the forest, but didn’t slow down until she was on the road. It would take Emily over an hour to walk to the bus station, but she didn’t care. Every few minutes, she looked behind her shoulder, terrified to see the headlights of the car, but she saw none.

After what felt like an eternity, Emily could finally see the dim lights of the bus station, and she started running again. To her luck, it was still open, and she opened the door before waiting at the ticket counter. The woman behind it looked at Emily and smiled. “How may I help you sweetheart?” She asked Emily, and nervously she looked at the door. “I need a one way ticket to New York, with the first available bus” she said desperately, and the woman measured her a bit with her eyes. “How old are you?” She asked suspiciously, and Emily grabbed her wallet from the bag and showed the woman her driver’s licence. Nodding, the woman gave it back, and checked her computer. “There is a bud going past here, that is headed for New York. It will be here in a few minutes, but the ticket is not cheap” the woman warned, and Emily looked at her a bit and sighed. “As long as my perverted father never finds me, I don’t care what it costs” she said and gave the right amount of bills to the lady, accepted the change and went outside to wait for the bus. The woman came out to, just after. “Miss Maxwell, what do I say if he shows up here?” She asked, and Emily thought for a few seconds. “Tell him I jumped on the last bus going to Los Angeles” she said as the bus approached, and the woman nodded. The bus stopped and opened the doors, and Emily showed him her ticket. She sat down, and was finally on her way to the Big Apple, then she saw the headlights of her father’s truck pull up at the bus station, and her face drained. As her father exited the car, the bus started driving, and she sighed, happy to never see her father again.

*

“Officer Gene, are you listening?” Emily snapped out of her thoughts as her sergeant talked to her. It had been a few years since she had left Montana, and the day after she got to New York, she had legally changed her name from Emily Gene Maxwell, to Emily Gene, and had searched for an opening at the police academy. She had been best in her class, and had been recruited as an officer immediately after she graduated. “Officer?” She hear again and turn her head. “I’m sorry, sir. I thought of the day I got here” she says truthfully, and he nods. “You have to tell me you’re story one time, only when you’re ready of course” her sergeant, Miller said. “I’m not sure I’ll ever be. I have told bits and pieces here and there, but I’m too ashamed to tell the whole story” she said as she started the engine of the squad car. “Take your time. No one take the red eye from Montana to New York, in the dead of winter, and change their name, unless something happened to them” sergeant Miller says to her, and she nod as the put on the left turn signal. They take their normal patrol through Brooklyn, when they get a radio call from dispatch. “This is dispatch. There is a 10-4 in progress. Officers in need of immediate sniper assistance” the person says, and Emily look at her sergeant. He has heard she is a good shot, and they are only a block away from the scene. He nods, and she pick up her radio and turn on the sirens. “Dispatch, this is 2314. We’re a block away, with a sniper” she says, and the dispatch officer give her the green light. She park between a couple police cars, and many of them react to the fact that she’s so young. As she step to the trunk, she pull her hair in a ponytail and take of the badge. She pulls her bulletproof vests from the trunk and take it on, before placing the badge on the right spot. She grab the case with her sniper. She never goes to work without it. She climb to the roof, and is aware that her sergeant is right behind her. When she’s at the top, she open the case and start assembling the weapon. She place the scope last and see the suspect keeping a cop hostage at gunpoint. She see a shot, but has to confirm. This is a shot she have made hundreds of times before. “I have eyes on the suspect, and have a clear shot. Do I have a green light?” She ask, and she get a signal from another sniper to go ahead. That means he has the same shot, but won’t be able to take it. Emily hold her breath and gently squeeze the trigger. When she see the past path to shoot, she take it. She can feel the kickback in her shoulder, and she see how the bullet projectiles from the muzzled barrel until it goes straight between the suspect’s eyes, dropping him to the ground instantly. She can hear the slow motion breathing of her sergeant, and her heart beat slowly beating in her ears, before the sounds come back to normal and her focus is back to the present. Her sergeant look at her with his jaw open like a fly trap. She quickly pick her sniper apart and place it back in the case. “Where the hell did you learn to shoot like that?” Sergeant Miller asked her, and she shrugged her shoulders. They went back down on the ground in silence, and she was met by a round of applause. “You must be the youngest sharpshooter in history. Where did you learn to shoot like that?” Another cop asks, and she smile bitter. “My father” she said short, not wanting to elaborate. “Remind me to thank him the next time I see him” the man she saved said. She smiled. “Sure. I’ll thank him for teaching me how to use a glock when I was 10, and pushed my first hunting rifle in my hands at 15, and how I almost broke my shoulder a few weeks later because my drunk father forgot to tell me about the kickback” she said, and she saw the face of every cop drop. “I’m fine. I’m here, right? Something good came out of it. If I hadn’t run away to this city, I would probably be in jail because my father would want me into what he calls the “family business” she said and grimaced. The family business being prostitution and hitmen. “A round of applause for the youngest sharpshooter ever, in NYPD history” her sergeant said, and she blushed as all the cops, including the sniper from the other roof, gave her a long, long round of applause.