As soon as the bullet left the chamber, I regretted my
decision.
Time helpfully slowed down, as I was able to see every fiery
powder speck drift from the barrel as the surprisingly small piece of lead
began to move, as if drifting on a gentle breeze, through the air.
I was unable to move a muscle, due to this being a split
second or out of guilty fear, or both, or neither, I don’t know for sure. All I
know is that I pulled the trigger.
The bullet slammed into her chest.
Where her lucky pendant always hanged.
Almost.
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