I positioned my hands the way I thought I’d seen guys on TV held it. “Like this?”
He laughed. “No, uh, like this,” he said, grabbing both my hands and positioning them properly. “You should always grip high on the backstrap. This’ll allow you leverage when the gun fires and it’ll prevent it from recoiling into your body.” My hands started to shake a little and he steadied them with his. “Your other hand should rest on top of this hand, right under the trigger guard and cup the back of your trigger hand.
“You’ll need to stand with your feet and hips at shoulder width,” he explained, moving close behind me, flush with the back of my body, sending electric shocks careening through to my toes.
I spread my feet apart and stood still, staring at my target. Dingane didn’t say a word but slowly used his feet to spread my own a little farther apart. My breath hitched in my throat.
“Comfortable?” he whispered in my ear.
I swallowed. No. “Um, yes.”
Dingane stepped from behind me and the breath I’d been holding whooshed from my lips.
“Let me have the gun,” he said and I handed it to him.
He started loading it and my already rapid pulse beat with unknown intensity.
“Make a circle with your thumb and forefinger, pick an object around you, hold it out at arm’s length and find that object within the circle.” He paused. “Got it?” he asked, still loading.
“Yes.”
I chose his face.
“Keeping that object within sight, bring the circle toward your face. The circle should naturally gravitate to one eye.”
“My left,” I told him and he looked up.
“Mine too,” he whispered. I dropped my hands to my side. “That’s your dominant eye. You’ll use that one to align your sights.” He handed me the gun and stood behind me closely, gripping the gun with me. “This is very loaded.”
You can say that again, I thought.
“Acknowledge me.”
“It’s loaded,” I repeated.
Dingane fixed himself hard against my back and my eyes slid closed at his warmth and the feel of his solid muscles. He fixed my stance once more with his feet and I could feel the blood rush to my belly. His mouth rested against my ear and I could hear every breath he took, slow and steady.
“Align your sights,” he spoke against my ear.
I nodded, my target within sight.
“Don’t press yet,” he teased.
“Why?” I barely rushed out.
“Don’t pull. Never pull. Whenever you’re ready, squeeze the trigger until you feel resistance, but let it surprise you. Don’t prepare yourself for the bullet, concentrate on applying pressure directly and let it show you exactly what it feels like the second it releases from the gun.”
I nodded and took several steadying breaths, keeping my target within sight. Time seemed to slow to a turtle’s pace. The world swirled quietly around me; the only significant sound was the deep rise and fall of Dingane’s chest.
My finger left its reclined position and rested on top of the trigger. My body tensed and I could feel his body cull itself tightly around mine in preparation. Two deep breaths and my lungs held still as my finger squeezed the trigger.
The world held still as the bullet rushed from the barrel toward the awaiting stump. The seconds to follow will forever brand themselves in my mind. The bullet struck home, shredding small parts of the stump outward in a halo of splinters, falling and settling onto the bed of dead undergrowth below. The bullet leaving the gun thrust my body against Dingane’s, but he seemed prepared for it, holding me still against him.
When it was all done, the world rushed back to reality around me, the sights and sounds loud against my eyes and ears. I began to breathe deeply and Dingane slowly turned me toward him. I pointed the gun at the earth and faced him, staring directly in his eyes.
“You did well, Soph,” he began softly. He’d never called me Soph before. “Feel all right?”
I nodded, unable to speak.