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Bang.

You know the cartoons? The old ones, where the baddie goes 'bang, bang' and every shot misses. The ones where heroes and villains alike die again and again only to pick themselves up again, dust themselves off and live to fight again.

Life isn't like the cartoons. The baddie goes 'bang, bang' and the shot doesn't always miss.

Sometimes, the bullet hits you right in the heart.

I stared down the barrel, ready for the blow. I even closed my eyes and whispered goodbye.

'Bang, bang.'

I didn't feel anything. Maybe the baddie missed after all. I opened my eyes.

He hadn't missed.

The bullet hit my heart, but I wasn't the one bleeding.

In a cartoon, there would have been no blood, but I could see it. Smell it. Taste it.

But it wasn't my blood.

I wish it was.



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