He freezes as he realizes that I`m in control now. The gun metal feels cool against my hands, and a sudden calm washes over me. I lower the gun. He sits up and I point it right back at him again, he throws his hands up in surrender.
"You did this," he says. "You started this war." I lower the gun, confused. War? What war?
"If this is what you call a 'war' then I`ll be more than happy to end it."
He begins to hum a hymne. The same one my mother used to sing to me. 'Used to.' Those words swallow me into an endless pit of grief, I try to hold back my tears, but some run from my eyes anyways.
"Remember that story your grandma used to tell you? The one about the clouds and the princesses and the rain?"
"Shut up. Shut up! Don`t talk about the past, my mother is now DEAD because of you. My grandmother dead because of YOU!" I raise up the gun once more, I put it to his temple.
He laughs. "You and your mom have something in common. You`re both too good. You ain`t got a bad bone in you. We both know you won`t pull that trigger.
This time, I laugh, "No.. We both THOUGHT I wouldn`t pull the trigger." I aim at his foot and shoot. He wails out in pain, and a wide smile spreads across my face, not of pleasure, but because for the first time, I`m not defenseless. This gun holds much power, and I am the driver of it`s ablities.
The house is quiet, except for his occasional cries of pure agony. This silence allows me to think, and let grief sink in.
I hear sirens sounding off from a small distance, which is how I know that this will all be over soon. I look directly into my father`s eyes.
"You will never win, and someday, when you die... I won`t shed a tear, and you," I point at him, "Will get your well deserved spot in Hell."
The cops finally show up, they take him away, and I feel... empty. I have no family left, one officer walks up to me, and the words fall out of my mouth before I even think, "Where will I go?" I ask. He looks up, pained.
"Come on," he says sadly.