Nora’s POV.“Shoot her!!!” his harsh, stern and firm voice commanded, making fear grip me. He was seated in an armchair, smoking his hemp and exhaling it in a single puff. His men surrounded him, each heavily armed, as if waiting for a directive to strike.The 10-year-old me was standing, holding a gun with my little trembling hands, aimed at my own mother. That wasn't my first time holding a gun, as I had practiced with it every day of my life since I was age five. But that was my first time of pointing it at a real being, my mother at that.“Shoot my mother? How can I?” I thought as my hands continued to tremble, with my eyes fixed on my mum, who was consumed with fear. Her eyes, filled with fear and anxiety, were pleading with mine, begging me not to pull the trigger ……. to save her life.“Are you deaf? I said to pull the trigger!!!” Dad’s resonating words hit my ears so hard, that the gun fell off my shaky hands.“I …. I can’t, Daddy” I stammered with my voice trembling, out of fe
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