By the skin of HIS teeth
The drunkard had entered the kitchen, unaware of which room he entered but fully aware of one thing.
He was going to shoot his son.
And his son knew that as well, hence why we has hidden there to begin with.
In the drunkards footsteps, they were heavy and slow. Almost as if he was prolonging his entrance into the kitchen. He took one step at a time as if he were counting them. He didn't care what would happen if he took too long to get there. It's not like his som would be able to hide or come up with a counter-attack regardless of how long he took to reach the kitchen. It was only a matter of time until he got to his son.
Luckily for him, he didn't take too long. He had finally reached the entrance to the kitchen, and he was met with a full view of the kitchen.
Entering the kitchen from the right side, he looked right in front of him, then to the left. He could see the sink, the closed drawers, and the kitchen island with a bunch of ingredients atop it. The further to the right he looked, the more he saw, until he saw
--Bang!
One shot fired.
The dreaded gunshot. The one feared to be the end.
Or was it?
Crash!
After the loud sound of that gunshot, a loud crashing sound was immediately accompanied by it.
What caused that sound to emerge? It was so loud that it had to have been nearby. In that case, it must've been from the kitchen he was in.
However, he didn't see anything crashing down onto the floor. The only person that should've gone down was right in front of him...
???: Huh.
He had taken a long, hard look. He stared at the direction he had fired his gun at, with the intent of killing his son.
Come to think of it, did he even know it was his son he was trying to kill?
The drunken mind is so confusing. So unpredictable, it truly was. Such actions couldn't even be predicted by himself.
He had intended to shoot someone, his son, to be specific, but there wasn't a person in sight aside from himself. All that remained in that direction he faced were several miniscule shards of glass. However, those shards weren't there when he appeared in the kitchen.
???:... Huh?
The drunkard was utterly confused by his own actions, his mind muddled by what transpired.
Thud!
Unfortunately, someone took advantage of that confusion. Someone who used his own actions to bring him down.
*****
Where was Kuyo?
He should've been in the kitchen, but there was nothing in sight aside from the drunkard, the kitchen, the island...
Then again, he never checked the island.
???: Haraaaaah!
The drunkard could only stand still in confusion, but the boy, who emerged from behind the island, had sprung forth, taking advantage of the momentary lapse in the drunkards judgment.
The boy ran towards his father, who was so drunk that he didn't turn his gun towards him in time.
A moment. That was all it took. The drunkard was brought down in a second. A fall-off so fast, his drunk self couldn't comprehend it at all.
All because of a momentary mistake. Caused by...
???: Sorry, mom.
*****
Back then, before his father entered the kitchen, he had to solve his dilemma.
After he dropped that silver knife, he could feel fear running through his veins. He was afraid of what approached him. Those dreadful footsteps brought him closer and closer to death.
That's what he believed.
So why did he drop that knife?
He could've easily waited for his father to enter the room and slit his throat while sneaking up on him.
But he couldn't.
This was a situation where only one could survive. The pressing matter was who he would let live?
His father? At the cost of his own life, and possibly his mother's?
Or his own? At the cost of taking his father's life.
As unreasonable as the first option was, the second option felt even more reasonable.
Hesitating.
Shaking.
Worrying.
Nerve-wracking.
The thought of such an action was too terrifying, even for him, who realistically didn't have a choice.
How would he survive without killing his father? Was it even possible?
What a moral dilemma
If only he knew the answer to it. He wished he knew the answer.
He then looked at the glass cutting board, which showed his reflection. Staring deeply into it, he asked himself.
Kuyo: What's the answer?
A drunkard was too unpredictable. A person so unpredictable that they couldn't understand their own actions. A person whose senses were so befuddled that they could see what wasn't there...
Kuyo: Huh...
As he stared into the glass cutting board, he realized. He found the answer...
... and all he had to do was look.
*****
When that drunkard entered the kitchen, who or what did he see?
He had probably seen a person, which was the only reason he'd have to fire that shot.
But who?
Who, other than Kuyo, could he have seen?
Crash!
Before the cutting board made of glass was shattered into a million pieces by a singular bullet, he saw someone. That's why he fired.
He saw.
He saw.
He saw.
Crash!
...Himself.
What he shot wasn't his son, but a reflection of himself.
How foolish of him
*****
Kuyo: Sorry, mom.
While he successfully brought his armed and drunk father down to the floor, his thoughts were directed to the millions of glass shards, which were once a beautiful cutting board. The one that he used as decoy. The one that his mom loved to use.
Despite the urgency of the situation, he managed to find a way to subdue his father without killing him. He prolonged his life, only at the expense of that glass cutting board.
Kuyo: I'll pay for it, mom.
He knew how valuable that cutting board was for him, but he needed it desperately. At least he didn't use that knife his mom cherished, used out, and instead taken it to stain it with hate-colored blood.
He had done it.
He survived the gunshot. He didn't die. He should've reveled at his own accomplishment, but there were more pressing matters to attend to.
???: Hrk! Hrk! Get ooooooffff...
There was a drunken man who he still had to stop from dealing with any more damage than he already had.
Kuyo: Gah!
Kuyo continued to tug onto his father as an attempt to keep him on the floor. However, Kuyo knew that it wouldn't last.
???: Get off...
The drunk man used his empty hand to hit the back of Kuyos' head. He continued on in hopes of making him let go of his grip. Surely, he did, but that wasn't for the sake of avoiding a hit.
???: Wah?
Kuyo then crawled forward, bringing himself closer to his father's right arm. That very arm held the gun that had been fated to kill Kuyo.
The only way to stop that dreaded fate from happening was to make sure a shot was never fired. That was his aim. And hence, he would reach for it with his hand.
But looking at his father, that was going to be easier said than done. He had a small frame compared to his father's. It was extremely clear that one was 15 years old, and the other was 48 years old.
That gun... he needed it.
How else would he prevent that dreaded gunshot?
Bang!
One shot!
Bang!
Another shot!
Bang!
Another shot!
The drunkard fought back relentlessly and fired his rounds to get the boy off of, either through brute force or intimidation.
However, neither of those methods worked. He couldn't get the boy to stop the pursuit of his gun. He couldn't stop him.
He was facing off someone who, despite never being able to hope and always faced despair, finally clinged onto hope.
Despite the despair that was engraved into that book, he fought against it nonetheless. He grasped his desire to live tightly, and with that, he finally grabbed the gun that was fated to end him. He stole it from his fathers grip, and it was now in his fathers possession.
No one knew how many bullets there were left in the gun, but assuming that the revolver was a six-barrel gun and it was shot a total of three more times, then it meant that...
Kuyo: ...Only one shot.
*****
When Kuyo said those words at the realization of that fact, he sounded like he intended to use that one remaining bullet.
One bullet.
Would he really use it?
Thoughts flashed through his mind. He had imagined the gruesome that was precipitated in his book, the book of his life. That unfortunate ending couldn't be fathomed by him.
'I DIED'
'FIN'
That made it sound like his death was no more than another ending to a story. The meer thought scared him.
He didn't want to die.
He didn't want to die...
... Didn't want to die...
... Didn't want to die...
... Want to die...
... Want to die...
... To die...
... To die...
... To die...
... Die...
... Die...
... DIE!
With each passing thought, he gripped the revolvers to handle tighter than before. He couldn't let that gun go. If he did, then...
'BANG'
'I DIED'
'FIN'
He couldn't let that happen. Not in a million years.
****
The drunkard father could only look back at him with slightly squinted eyes. He was so drunk that his senses were failing him. He slowly ascended from his lying position. By pushing his body upright, he finally stood up on his two feet. While gathering his balance, he forced his vision to widen and right in front of him... he stared in confusion...
But then again, no parent would be able to believe the sight of their own child aiming a gun at them.
However, he could believe what he was seeing. He was too drunk to doubt anything. Heck, if he saw a unicorn on the other end of the kitchen, he would believe it was real. But this case was different nonetheless. What was right in front of him wasn't fiction.
His son really did aim a gun towards his face. Specifically in between his two strained eyes. His own son dared to try and shoot him?
Kuyos Dad: Hah
He couldn't imagine the audacity.
*****
Kuyo: Grhh!
Kuyo looked at his father, who was unfazed by his actions, no, by the gun that was aimed at him. Sure, it was his, but it was not like guns had a special feature that prevented anyone except the owner from firing it.
So why was he so calm after screaming his lungs out not so long ago?
No one knew, not even he did. The drunken mind is truly unpredictable. That was what made him all the more scary.
Kuyos Dad: There's no way you plan on firing that gun, ain't it?
Kuyo: Hk!
He was... in fact, right.
Kuyo wanted to intimidate his father with that gun. What he planned to do afterward was still unknown to him.
However, somehow, his father saw through it completely.
What now? What next? How could he stop his father? How could he make sure no one died?
These questions that he had no answers to...
... It drove him crazy...
... it drove him to a panic...
... and more importantly...
... it backed him into a corner.
Kuyo: Haraaaaaaaaaah!
As if he were escaping all those questions, he went into a sprint towards his father.
Click!
What was he gonna do? Was he gonna shoot him at close range? Why else would he pull the chamber?
Swoosh!
The drunkard was... in fact, right.
As Kuyo swung the revolver like it was a melee weapon, he proved to his father that he wouldn't shoot him. Instead, he would continue to swing the revolver.
He'd seen it done before in action movies. There would be scenes where the main character would use the bottom of the gun as a blunt weapon in order to incapacitate their opponents, and right now, Kuyo tried to do the same thing.
He repeatedly tried to swing the pistol, aiming for his father's temple, but unfortunately, he was too panicked to land a hit.
He was so panicked that he forgot where this 'temple' was located in the first place. All he knew was that he had to hit his head.
Although he swung furiously and with killing intent, he failed each strike miserably, and his father could only look at him with a tinge of anger.
For Kuyo to attack his own father? The audacity.
His intent was seen through and through. Simply because he had managed to confuse his father with the mirror trick, he thought he could catch his father off guard again.
Swoosh
Kuyos Dad: Hk.
A sound. It sounded like his father clenched his teeth. From Kuyos view, he could see that his fathers mouth wasn't even closed. So what was he biting on?
Kuyo: Gah! Hrgh!
At the sight of it, Kuyo tried to resort to other methods.
Such as him trying to pull out the gun from in between his father's sharp, yellow teeth.