The Girl with the GunT
he boy on the floor with a hole in his head is Danny.
The girl with the gun is me.
The phone that I used to call the military police is his.
It’s an iPhone 4s and did not break when he dropped it.
The soldier who answered my call took a while to understand what I was saying.
He thought it was a prank and told me to get off the phone.
Danny looks at peace.
I cannot see his face but I know he is safe now.
He would smile if he could.
Yes, yes, he would.
The gun on the table is the gun I used to shoot the devil out of Danny.
It isn’t my gun.
It belongs to Danny’s father, a retired Air Force general.
The bullet was mine.
Actually, the box of bullets belonged to my father.
He was a staff sergeant when he died.
That was just about the only thing he did righ
