130

Isabella

My heart was thumping hard in my chest as the man that was my estranged father stood far away from the door and pointed his gun at the door. I did not hide in the closet like he told me to. Instead I waited, confident that I could protect myself. “The first rule of owning a gun is to never let them know that you are carrying one,” Damien had told me when we were at the shooting range and he was teaching me how to hold the gun.

In the end, I had chosen a gun called a Beretta with bullets that were called forty fives. It was a very difficult learning process. I hated the recoils the gun produced but over time, and in other to please Damien, I had gotten used to it. I was not an excellent shot yet, but in a circumstance like this, It could prove useful. But I was afraid of shooting anyone. I was afraid of taking a life. I hoped that Emilio knew how to use his gun.

“Who is it?” Emilio asked in a calm clear voice. His hand never wavered as he pointed the gun at the door.

“It’s me