Trauma Trigger
Stephanie stared at the paper target hanging in front of her, right where its eyes would be. She sucked some air in through her nose and flipped the switch to her left. It was met with loud clank and a whirring sound that grew louder; reaching a fever pitch until the target came to a halt at the end of the range. Stephanie put the earmuffs on. On the table in front of her was a Glock 43. It was compact. She picked it up with ease and inspected it in her hand. It was the smallest gun she had tried out so far. She it steady, level with the target. Her gaze hardened.
Never again.
BANG
It was a hot and humid night when Stephanie walked home.
BANG
She took the usual route, and was only a few blocks away from her building as she turned onto Prospect Avenue. She heard footsteps behind her. A chill ran down her back. Her hospital shift finished late, and even the drunks stumbling home from the local bars would’ve been home by now. She sped up.
BANG
Before long, the footsteps behind her stopped. She turned around. Nothing. She should have been more careful.
BANG
A quick shuffling of footsteps came from the darkness behind her. She spun around.
BANG
Never again.
Stephanie’s eyes were red and welling up behind the range’s protective glasses. She flipped the switch, summoning the target. It lurched towards her, it’s bottom half blowing behind it. Even through the earmuffs, she could hear the whirring. Stephanie was fighting back tears, staring intently ahead at the blank face on the paper. She felt as though she were boiling from the inside out. The target came closer. Closer. It stopped a mere foot from her face. Unfurling, a new figure took the place of the silhouette. It was him. She could even smell his horrible cologne. See his blue eyes. The nose protruding from beneath the mask. His disgusting hands as he reached out to choke her.
BANG
Stephanie was shaking. The smell of smoke from the barrel overtook his cologne. She blinked, unable to fight back the tears anymore. He was gone. A blank face with a new hole square in the middle stared back.
“...Ma’am! Ma’am,” The attendant ran up to her.
Stephanie removed her headphones.
“Excuse me, but please do not discharge your weapon until the target is at the end of the range.”
“Right. Sorry.”
“So, you gonna buy? You’ve tried out every gun in the god-damned store!”
“Yes.”
“Which one?”
For the first time in six months, Stephanie smiled.
“All of them.”
Never again.
BANG
It was a hot and humid night when Stephanie walked home.
BANG
She took the usual route, and was only a few blocks away from her building as she turned onto Prospect Avenue. She heard footsteps behind her. A chill ran down her back. Her hospital shift finished late, and even the drunks stumbling home from the local bars would’ve been home by now. She sped up.
BANG
Before long, the footsteps behind her stopped. She turned around. Nothing. She should have been more careful.
BANG
A quick shuffling of footsteps came from the darkness behind her. She spun around.
BANG
Never again.
Stephanie’s eyes were red and welling up behind the range’s protective glasses. She flipped the switch, summoning the target. It lurched towards her, it’s bottom half blowing behind it. Even through the earmuffs, she could hear the whirring. Stephanie was fighting back tears, staring intently ahead at the blank face on the paper. She felt as though she were boiling from the inside out. The target came closer. Closer. It stopped a mere foot from her face. Unfurling, a new figure took the place of the silhouette. It was him. She could even smell his horrible cologne. See his blue eyes. The nose protruding from beneath the mask. His disgusting hands as he reached out to choke her.
BANG
Stephanie was shaking. The smell of smoke from the barrel overtook his cologne. She blinked, unable to fight back the tears anymore. He was gone. A blank face with a new hole square in the middle stared back.
“...Ma’am! Ma’am,” The attendant ran up to her.
Stephanie removed her headphones.
“Excuse me, but please do not discharge your weapon until the target is at the end of the range.”
“Right. Sorry.”
“So, you gonna buy? You’ve tried out every gun in the god-damned store!”
“Yes.”
“Which one?”
For the first time in six months, Stephanie smiled.
“All of them.”