Gunpoint Dilemma

• Emma Penberthy, Grade 10
• Short Story
• 2022

I nod my head to the beat of the song blaring through my earphones as I listen to the intricate guitar played in the solo. My pace matches the tempo as I saunter through the mass of people meandering in and out of the shops lining the street.

Strolling by shops, I inconspicuously observe the behaviour of customers within. As I think about the task set by the cunning gang of criminals, a feeling of unease settles over me as the realisation of the weight on my shoulders begins to fill me. Relieved to note an absence of suspicious activity, I cross the street running perpendicular to the one I recently was on, nearing a familiar looking boutique. I squint, attempting to find reason for the familiarity. With a sinking heart, I realise that this was my wife Mary’s favourite shop. With a slight shaking of my hands, I turn up my music, attempting to distract myself before the scene of her death replays in my mind. The image of the curtains billowing in the wind rushing through the open doors of the balcony is already beginning to consume my mind and pull me away from reality.

I focus back on the real world, my heart racing as I pace away from the boutique. I tear my eyes away from the boutique of memories, only to see a flash of aqua clothing on the other side of the road. Shaken up, I sharply turn the corner and head into the empty alleyway, the smell of dampness filling my nose as I carefully inspect the long stretch of darkness. I pause and once I have calmed the swell of emotions raging inside me, I pull my earphones out. Striding purposefully towards the end of the alley, I reach into my jacket, my hand settling on the gun inside. I press myself against the wall, peeking around the corner as I home in on my target. She sits alone at an outside table, waiting patiently for her meal. The girl is quite tall, almost my height and roughly twenty-two years of age. A content, relaxed look adorns her face, although as I peer into her eyes, I see that they hide many secrets within. Something about her looks familiar, although I am unable to determine why.

As she peers down at her phone, I figure this is my chance. I lift my gun, aiming at the girl’s temple. My fingers curl around the trigger. I hear a click behind me and spin around, colour draining from my face. Mary stands there in the aqua dress she wore when I proposed to her, her eyes still guarding many secrets. Her hands are wrapped around a gun pointed directly at my forehead. Her eyes are watery and a look of great suffering is plastered across her face. I finally realise the connection between the girl and Mary as she meets my eyes and utters a single sentence.

“I can’t let you kill our daughter.”