I used to think there wasn’t a God, but I went through the motions at church just like everyone else. The kids seemed to believe it which made my wife happy. But, she asked him “Why?” as she bled out into the leather upholstery of our SUV. I know now that there is a God. He’s not that loving and forgiving merciful-type God. He’s more of an angry God. He got tired of pressing the reset button on this planet years ago, so now he gets his kicks watching us suffer the slow death that comes with his indifference.

I know that there being no justice and there being no divine intervention, there will be nothing to save this kid. Misguided? Maybe. A product of his environment? Possibly. Maybe someone could have helped him, guided him, and brought him to a new life away from these streets.

Instead, I raise the pistol from my lap and look into his eyes. I watch the panic and shock as I squeeze three shots into his drug peddling chest.

Driving away, I pray death brings only darkness and my family doesn’t see me.