And this is when I move. Just as soon as Shane’s words are starting to dissolve into the air, I charge right against him with all of my strength. And I butt him out as strongly as I can.

My shoulder collides with his chest and, from the way his whole body stumbles back a little, I realize that he was completely unprepared to this. I can hear him growling in rage, caught off guard. His left hand, the free one, raises abruptly trying to grab my hair, but I shift my weight to a side and, while he moves a single step back, I turn my head to Dante and I see his face.

His eyes are fixed on Turmont’s face. His wounded arm lifts in a fluid way, as if the gunshot wound didn’t matter anymore. The time freezes again, again I am pushing the “pause” button on my imaginary remote. I clearly see another drop of blood dripping down from the tip of the front sight, falling on the floor. I see the black hole inside the barrel. Dante’s arm creates a perfect right angle with the rest of his body.

When Dante pulls the trigger, I bend over.

”It’s my life and provision
Black or white
Some pay to pray
You question why they
Act this way
It’s their fucking decision”

Francois Turmont recoils. An invisible hand seems to have punched him right in his chest. He falls down on his back and opens his mouth, trying hard to catch a breath, and Dante moves to Shane rapidly, silently, grabbing her gun with his left hand, deviating the barrel to a side just as she pulls the trigger.

Another gunshot. Gun powder smell and I don’t have a voice to shout anymore. It seems it’s everywhere. The noise, the smell. Dante seems to be jerking, just for a second, then he falls on his knees, exhaustedly, letting go a long sigh that vibrates, multiplied for an endless moment, in the loaded air of the room.

He bows his head and, right in front of him, Shane does the same. They are both on their knees, face to face. Dante’s left hand is still holding Shane’s gun tightly. They look like two mirror images.