“Get them out of here!”

“NO!” I declared, reaching back for my gun. Hand over hand and keep it nice and rigid I thought to myself.

“Let’s not be foolish Salim” he laughed, “Heavy, isn’t it? Give it to me”, Maman smiled.

I pulled back the hammer, revealing an unfired bullet and I tightened my grasp on the bloodstained handful of metal. In the corner of my eye I saw the disproval and shock on Jamal’s face, but I didn’t need anybody’s approval. I was in control. Salim, the gun master.

“On your knees, DOWN!” the words glided past my lips as if they were well recited lines.

Yet they were merely the last words of the most terrifying but… somewhat enjoyable turning point in my life.

***

Even though, it occurred several days ago, I still clearly remember how crisp and concise those words were, as a stupid police officer learnt a fatal lesson.

I never meant to cause any harm to him, I was going to nick a well-deserved bottle of beer and leave the shop in peace, but an old man was around the corner looking to buy a drink to satisfy himself aswell, his gaze retracted from the shelves and directly to my face and started to pace towards me. It was time to bolt. I darted down the aisle knocking over any object that crossed my path to try and deter his pursuit.

Then all of a sudden a gunshot erupted from behind me and it sent a chill down my spine. I felt nothing, but as I turned to the realisation that the frail old man had unleashed a shot towards the ground and now, the barrel of the gun was directly aimed at my face.

“I wouldn’t normally make such a scene”, he suddenly said pulling out his badge resembling the emblem of the police force. “But I know the face of a slum dog when I see it.” He concluded his statement with a spit of mucus onto my forehead.

“Dirty dogs, on your knees, DOWN!”

Blood rushed a lot faster through my whole body, as the words “Dirty dogs” echoed over and over inside my now simple and primitive head. I lowered myself to a squat. Then something began to possess me, anger overwhelmed all conscience and logic and I could feel something running through my veins, I think they call it adrenaline. Whatever it was, it was in control without any notice, it forcefully projected my left arm straight towards his gun and at the same time my right arm swung out from behind my back with a hard, solid object in hand, the beer bottle.