Standing in the street face to face with my brother, another person who I did not know. Holding the upper hand with my finger on the trigger. Trying to make it the only way I know, the split second made the difference for the rest of my life. One movement and then pop, the sound of thunder and lightning issuing from my clenched fist, holding taught around the grip of the gun. Like a slow motion sliver streak, the bullet hit it's mark. Tearing into the person who under the skin is my human brother. Down he fell into the gutter, another lost soul claimed as a victim of the drug trade. I hesitated for a moment, then grabbed what was mine and ran. Never looking back, only seeing the thing on T.V. ! Again and again it was played out until it became surreal. Trembling I sat in the dark like a rat trapped in a cage. The images of the look on his face frozen in my mind. The grainy images of the surveillance camera did not tell the whole tale. Details were left out so that the story that they wanted to tell could be written. A split second later and the tables would have been turned, my brother who was desperate had a gun too. If he had been quicker, then I would have been laying in the street. With no clues as to who did the deed, all they can say is it is another tragedy. What they do not know is who did this terrible thing. What they cannot realize is that all things have changed. A gun a split second and one shot changed it all for me and for the guy that is my brother under skin, who wanted to do to me what I had to do to him.