I Missed

If I could change one thing it would be carrying the gun. My choice was clear, my motivation was sound, and my method was tried and true. My execution was awful. 

    We were walking down the boulevard. Vanilla ice cream was dripping down her hand. She was wearing her big yellow rain boots, splashing in the small puddles as she made her way through the people. The ice cream was framing her mouth. She had it in her hair. She was the cutest thing on the street that night. 

    The tall man with a dark, rough beard and oversize jacket drifted into my view from the shadows. His rough exterior was enduring for a second. I didn’t have time to react before he swiped her from my grasp and bolted towards a van across the busy street. My daughter. My baby. Her bright blue eyes were desperate over the man’s shoulder. The van was started. Someone was patiently waiting for the escape. 

    I didn’t think. I reached into my bag and felt the cold, metallic handle. Ripping it out of my bag, I took aim through the crowd. The lights were reflecting off the wet ground. I squeezed gently and the world went silent. 

    People fell at my feet as I leapt forward. The man carrying my baby was laying on the ground. His hand was on her chest, shaking her almost violently. Her limbs were sprawled. 

    I must have screamed because he looked back at me, his eyes filled with panic. People were spreading away from me now. My feet were pounding the pavement. He looked back down at my girl then pushed off the ground and continued to run. He left her in the middle of the street. She wasn’t moving. I knelt at her side on the wet pavement. Her bright eyes were dull. Droplets of water were falling onto her soft cheeks faster than I could wipe them away. 

    People were crowding me now. The world was still silent. I lifted my hand from the ground beside her and my hand was soaked in crimson. 

    My choice was clear. My motivation was sound. My method was tried and true. My execution was awful. 

I missed, I lost my baby.