It was like a horror movie. My horror movie.

I stared at the scene before me, taking in everything with pristine clarity; each new detail like a stab to the chest.

I stared as Jimin weakly fought, only to flop to the ground limp and gasping like a fish out of water when the hard gleaming gun presses against his head. His eyes were the worst. It wasn't until this moment that I realized just how far self-discipline had been drilled in him— though his face was smooth and fixed like stone, agony reflected in his eyes showed just how much he was suffering from the Moonsbane covering him. His Marks, his beautiful silver marks, crying in blood.

From Jimin my eyes took in my mother, standing triumphantly above him as if she'd finally brought down a monster that had been haunting her. A cruel grin twisted on her face, making her unrecognizable to me, as she pointed the rifle filled with Moonsbane down. So she was the one who'd fired the debilitating shot.

And finally my father. One hand viciously twisting Jimin's arm behind his back as he pressed the silver Outworlder to the ground, the other hand holding the gun, bullet clicked into place, fingers already lightly squeezing the trigger.

Both my parents wore the abhorrent white uniform that was now, and perhaps forever more, burned into my mind. The clean white material of the uniform screamed enemy, screamed at me to squeeze my own fingers on the trigger. But the faces of the white clad people was an impassable brick stop sign.

All these details I'd soaked up in just a few seconds.

It took my parents a couple more seconds to take in me. To recognize me. The cold expressions on their face slowly began to meld into disbelief as they too recognized me.

I probably looked like a stranger to them. The last I'd seen them was over six months ago. Since then, I'd become leaner, more built from all the training and hard courses I'd taken. Lingering injuries from the base attack last week still blemished my skin. On top of all of the physical appearances, I was pointing a gun right at my father's head.

"Jiyeon?" My mother gaped. "What... what the hell do you think you're doing?"

I didn't know what I was doing.

Only a few months ago when I'd began training, I'd been so sure of what I wanted, what I wished to accomplish. I wanted to train, to become strong, to help protect and defend those who needed it. But the bullet that tore through Yoongi was the first moment that had torn through what I thought I believed in.

For every death, for every suffering, for every life taken— both from me and by me— had been another blow to what had once been my solid rock of resolve. I still wanted peace, I still wanted equity— but I was starting to wonder just how high a price I was going to have to pay for that.

The ultimate price was now in direct line of fire from the gun in my hands.

"Jiyeon!" Now my dad was speaking to me, staring as I didn't even lower the gun from him. "Put down your gun!"

"Only if you put down yours." The words leapt to my mouth before my brain could fully function.

Jimin was still panting heavily but even from this distance I could see his breaths were becoming shallower, weaker.

A little thread of desperation spiraled in me and I tightened my grip on my weapon. My own breaths were beginning to come out just as quickly as Jimin's. "Dad, drop the gun!"

I hadn't seen my parents for more than half a year. And this was how I was reunited. With me threatening their lives as they threatened my partner, my friend, my love's life.

"You would shoot your own father for this creature?" Mom gaped at me.

I didn't answer. I didn't know how to answer. Shoot my own father. The words bounced around my head.

Mom pressed on. "Why are you even on this his side? This alien is the very reason for tearing our family apart! What did he promise you to join his side huh? What did he provide you that we couldn't? Why did you choose him instead of us? He tore our family in two."

"No." I shook my head. The ground threatened to tilt beneath me and it was all I could do not to fall. My injured leg contracted and spasmed from the pain, yet somehow I still managed not to fall over. "He is not the reason to blame our family. You left to join the Reformists! You're the ones who broke our family into two!"

"And you joined the aliens' side," Dad spat. "Don't act like you're innocent, Jiyeon! You could've just stayed out of it! You could've stayed neutral. But you joined the fight against your mom and I knowing damn well that we might meet on opposite sides."

I flinched. He was right. I couldn't fully blame my parents. I'd joined the fight too, even after knowing that my parents were with the Pure Reformists. Knowing that any moment I could meet them in action.

"Go on then." Dad sneered at me, eyes huge and wild— as unrecognizable as Mom's cruel grin when she'd been staring at Jimin. "Shoot me. Pull the trigger. Show everyone what kind of person you are. Show yourself what kind of person you are."

My hands shook, fingers slowly squeezing the trigger. My dad and mom's faces blurred and I realized that there were tears building in my eyes.

I could feel my literal sanity tipping on the very edge of a precipice. If Dad fired the gun and Jimin died, my sanity would leave me. If I fired the gun and one of may parents died because of me, my sanity would leave me. It was too much. The price was too high for me to pay.

Jimin's words echoed in my head. "And what happens if you meet your parents on the field? Will you even have enough resolve to kill your own parents in the name of what you believe in?"

Even back then I knew I'd never be able to live with myself if I killed my own parents. No matter their flaws, no matter how great a divide between our beliefs, they were still my parents. They raised me, cared for me, loved me, even with our opposing values.

I dared to look down at Jimin. His breaths were definitely fainter, fast and small as he gasped. However his eyes never left me, never wavered. Beneath the torment in his eyes was a deep understanding. He gave a tiny nod. And then his eyes slid close.

No.

"You can't do it," said Mom. Victory, as well as relief, filled her voice. "You can't shoot your father."

I was still staring at Jimin who had seemingly gone lifelessly limp. No. No no no no... He couldn't just give up. Not like that. Not after everything that had happened.

My father gave one short laugh. He clicked the bullet into place. From this distance I could see him about to pull the trigger.

Resolve flooded through me.

In a flash I flipped the gun in my hand... and pressed it to my head.

"If you shoot him," I said, "then I'll pull the trigger."

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