Page 36 of Kisses

“Mom. No!” I cry, knowing what she is about to do. I plead, “Mom, please.”

Tears stream down her cheeks as she cries, “You’re the best thing that has ever happened to me. I love you.”

I cry, “Mom, I love you.”

“Now, go into the dressing room.”

I nod and turn around to leave my mother to do what she has been taught to do. She has a conceal and carry. She has been training for years in defense. She has even taught classes. Now, she has to use what she has learned and taught. I am so scared.

POW…POW…POW…

The gunshots get louder.

Another gun fires.

Click. Boom. Click.

Oh, my God.

I get up from my hiding spot and run to the front of the dressing room. My mother is face to face with a young man holding an assault rifle. They both fire at the same time.

Her bullet hits him directly in the head and he falls to the ground, dropping his rifle.

My mother falls to the floor.

I screamed, “Mommmmm!!!”

Not caring if the assailant is dead, I run over to my mom. I’m pretty sure he is. My mother got him right in the face.

My mother lay on the cold, tile floor with blood gushing out of her lower abdomen.

I cry, “Mom.”

She coughs, “Lyla, honey.”

“Mom, why?”

Tears fall from her eyes, she weeps, “I did it to protect you.”

“But Mom!”

“Honey, don’t let them make a hero out of me. Tell the police that I want this to remain quiet.” She struggles to breathe while talking. “Tell them, it was self-inflicted. I got as close as I could to resemble that.”

“Mom, you saved lives.”

“Your life is the most important. I love you,” she states. Her eyes close and she permanently falls asleep.

I yell, “Mom. No, no, no. Mom.”

I wrap my arms around her, pick her up and hold her. I cry, “Mom, I love you so much. Why?”

I start to hysterically cry.

A loud commotion barges through the department store. My attention stays with my mother. I don’t want to leave her. Yet, she left me. This cannot be happening. Why my mother? Why these people? This coward had to kill others for whatever reason. I lost my mom. She’s a hero. She stood up to the shooter. She took him down. My mother.

I feel a hand on my shoulder. I wouldn’t let go of my mother. Whoever’s hand starts to grab and peel me off my mother. I scream, “NOOOOOO!”

A husky voice states, “Miss, we need to check the victim.”