Rebecca Saalbach

‘You put that gun against my head right now or I’m going to do my damnedest to kick you in the balls and then I’d like to see you aim at anything. So put it back! Put it back!’

Bang. The recoil jars his whole body. The way I’m being held, it jars mine too. I wait for the screaming, for blood to start spreading on the tile floor and stain the soles of my sneakers. There’s just the dial tone. I twist my head to see the gun in Toby’s hand, still held out straight, aiming at a totally wrecked piece of bookcase. He’s blown a hole clean through the shelf, books from above it falling onto the books below. Books with eviscerated lower halves, and eviscerated upper halves and spines blown apart. There are little bits of paper floating down. There’s a thud as half a dozen hardbacks unbalance, and nose-dive to the tiles.