Hand wrapped around the gun, my arms extended in front of me aiming at the target Harry had set for me. After my lack of focus in combat training and the physical contact of it all, Harry said its best we take a break from it. The funny part about his logic is that with a gun I require more help since I've only shot a gun a handful of times in my life.
I was only taught very simple and basic things when it came to firearms. I think it was because my other caretakers thought of me as a fragile doll. Some treated me like I was glass and with one wrong move, I would shatter right in front of them. I hated the way they looked at me, the look of constant pity.
"When you're ready, go ahead." Harry encouraged after he positioned my arms to the right position. His muscles bulging every time he m
