The contradiction in that message confused me. If it wasn’t loaded, why did it matter if I put it down or not? The weight of the shotgun was getting to me. I wasn’t sure how much longer I could keep the shotgun pointed at mother with how much it was straining my arms to keep it upright. After another lengthy moment of silence had passed, I began to involuntarily lower the gun so that it was pointed in front of mother rather than right at her.
Mother seized the opportunity and took another couple of steps forward. It took all my remaining strength to point the shotgun back at her.