No Second Chance

For weeks, the nightmare has been the same. The way the child's head snapped back, the scream of the mother as she cradled the lifeless form. For days I didn't even know if it was a boy or girl.

The officer's gun. It was an impulse move. I saw my tormentor coming for me in the alley and I pulled the officer's gun with a huge yell, closed my eyes and shot. I opened them as the officer shoved me down to the ground. The bullet ricocheted off a fire escape. I'm a terrible shot. The street behind us was full of shoppers.

How did I get his gun? Did I unsnap the strap? Was it already out?

Why was I so afraid? I had messed up, angered the boss. Told him I wasn't going to sell to kids.

I love kids.

He was so furious, so big, so mean. He was after me. I wasn't safe.

I'm not a murderer. Am I?

I deserve to suffer. Look at that poor mother. I killed her baby. I'm a monster.

My eyes are sunken, my hair thinned. I haven't eaten, haven't slept. I deserve this.

A chance shot, a whim, no second chance for me.