If Not For You...

There are things that go through your mind when you are staring down the barrel of a shotgun. Especially if it’s your dad with his finger on the trigger.

I was calm. I felt the blood seemingly trickle from the top of my head draining downward—a numbness with a hint of cold taking over my cheeks. He was postured, with a Vietnam stance, flashbacks from 1970 in his eyes.

I was the enemy.
I was twelve.