My dad had taught me how to protect myself, which seems hypocritical now seeing as my father didn’t protect innocents any longer, but exploited them.
With the gun in my hand, I checked to make sure the chamber had a bullet in it and that the magazine was full.
It was.
“Try again,” I whispered. “And get into the closet. On the floor, cover yourself with the blankets we threw there after the movie last night.”
My left hand was in a cast, so the left hand was going to have to do.
“Okay,” she whispered and moved, her phone screen already lighting up.
Only when the door closed behind her did I go out to the main living area.
All seemed quiet until I heard the scratch of the back door lock being picked.
“Fuck,” I whispered to myself, terrified.
I’d never shot anyone or anything before. The only thing I’d ever intentionally maimed was a watermelon.
And now I was going to shoot someone coming into Weaver’s place.
Did I announce myself? Did I tell whoever was on the other side of the door that I was going to shoot? Should I surprise them and just fire?
I had no clue what to do.
Even worse, I didn’t know if they were bad or good.
Which was a stupid thought as the lock clicked and the scraping stopped.
Whoever was trying to get in here was doing it in the middle of the night and it was a perfectly reasonable assumption that they were doing it for nefarious reasons.
The door handle slowly pushed open, and only Weaver’s well-oiled maintenance on his doors kept it silent.
I felt like I could feel my heartbeat in my throat, though.
If someone had said they could hear my heartbeat in that moment, I wouldn’t have been surprised.
“Don’t come inside!” I said forcefully. “I don’t know why you’re here, but you need to leave!”
Shock had me freezing where I stood when I heard my father’s voice fill the room around me.
“I’m here because you’re ruining my life with lies!” my father hissed.
My hand holding the gun started to shake, and I brought the gun down lower, but didn’t take my finger off the trigger just in case.
“I’m not lying about anything, and you know it.” My voice trembled. “You need to leave. Right now.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
Then he started running toward me, his feet pounding on the floor in such a way that I knew he was going to hit me. I instinctively started backing up.
The gun went off in my hand almost automatically, and I jolted as my elbow pounded backward into my hip. My ribs screamed, and my body jolted in surprise and shock.
Then my father wasn’t running toward me anymore.
He was yelling on the ground while rolling around yelling, “You shot me!”
“Of course, she fucking shot you,” I heard hissed. “You came running into her house in the middle of the night after breaking in, and after her clearly telling you to stop!”
