December 21st, 2033
I still see the shotgun and I still see the emptiness in his eyes. I’ve thought long and hard on it and I don’t know what else I could have done. He wasn’t going to stop. He wasn’t going to listen. He was going to kill me. He was raising the barrel and he was going to pull the trigger. And, if I didn’t act I was going to die, simple as that.
I didn’t want to die.
I had to defend myself.
I had to shoot. He left me no choice.
Why did he leave me no choice?