Instinct

Such perfect silence.

I had woken up because of some intuition that something was about to happen. That feeling was still overwhelming me. But, oddly enough, nothing was wrong. I say oddly because my intuitions are always right. Always.

Tonight though, it seemed like I was wrong. The world was perfectly still, and it was a gorgeous night. The moonlight that lit up my room seemed to give it a silver hue.

Suddenly, the silence and stillness was shattered by the sound of someone falling into my recently planted rose bushes. I jumped out of my bed and ran to my dresser. I opened the top drawer and grabbed my gun. Its familiar weight in my hand calmed my nerves. I loaded it and removed the safety clip. I crept out of my room and tip-toed down the stairs to my front door.

There, I stopped. My head spun with doubt and fear. I had practiced for hours at the range. Just me and my gun. Sometimes a couple glasses of scotch too. I felt so much power holding it.

But this wasn’t the same. This was real life. Would I be able to actually shoot someone? Watch them slowly bleed to death? Live with the thought that I had actually killed a man?

I ran out of time to think. The person outside was trying the door and cursing. It sounded like a man.

I tightened my grip on the gun and slowly and quietly undid the locks. I took a deep breath, threw open the door and pointed the gun at the man’s head.

He slowly raised his hands.

Suddenly, I saw a flash of white. Was he…smiling?

He then spoke in a voice that sounded like he was trying not to laugh, “I thought you’d be a little happier to see me, love.”

It was my husband.