“Stop,” I shouted.

Mother came to another pause, this time only ten feet away from me. Sweat tricked down my back. My arms shook. I held the shotgun upright, but I couldn’t keep it steadily pointed at mother as it wavered back and forth.

Mother took another tentative step toward me. I pressed my finger against the trigger. It wouldn’t budge. Nothing happened. Mother took another step. I placed a second finger onto the trigger, closed my eyes, and squeezed as hard as I could.