8
I swivel my head from side to side, frantically trying to figure out where the shooter might be.
My brain almost subconsciously provides the solution for me as my legs take me where I need to go.
I run through the little park, almost tripping over frozen parents watching their frozen kids on the silent playground.
The shooter is sitting in a large van, holding a long rifle pointed in our direction.
The anger that I now feel is difficult to describe. I’ve never felt this enraged before.
This fucker just shot at me and my friends—and he’s shooting at us through a park where little kids are playing.
Before this moment, I thought I would never consider Pushing anyone again. The reality of what I inadvertently did to that guy yesterday still horrifies me.
But now I feel ready to Push
