Less Than Seven

Chapter 4 - Fragments of Yesterday

"No. I have fired the first bullet just now. So, what you're saying is impossible." She replied.

"Oh, okay mom. I was just wondering." I said to her.

"By the way Prim. Where did you hear the sound you were saying? Can you specify the place?" Mom asked with her slowly getting bigger eyes showing curiosity.

"It was near the publication. Me and my co-workers were outside the bookstore there." I replied.

"Oh, my Prim. You better take care of yourself more because everything and everyone is completely dangerous. Don't trust anyone quickly. They might be good and kind to you, but they could also the ones to bring you to an end. I don't want to lose someone I love so much once more. You know what I mean, sweetie." Mom worriedly said. She was in tears, quiet tears.

"Yes mom. I love you!" I said to her.

"I love you t-"

Mom wasn't able to continue her words as we heard another sound coming from somewhere, it was quite far from our house. We were scared.

"This gun is my gift, I mean, your father's gift for you."

"Mom, you can't be serious." I contrasted her.

"I'm seriously serious, Prim. You have to learn how to use this." She demanded.

"Why would I have to learn using a gun?" I curiously asked.

"For protection, of course." She replied.

"Mom, I-"

"Take this already, Prim. You'll soon find out why you have to learn how to use a gun." She gave me the gun.

"But mom, I don't even know how to use this. I've never held a gun before." I said to her.

"That's why we're here. I'm going to teach you." She smilingly replied.

"Mom, I'm really tired right now. Can we do this some other day?" I requested.

"Prim, criminals don't waste their time." She replied.

"I understand that, mom. But I'm just really exhausted today." I said.

"As you wish, honey. Let's go inside. Place your gun somewhere easy to find." She said.

"Okay, mom." I replied.

Mom hugged me. Like, a close hug, full of feelings.

We decided to go inside and prepare for dinner.

As we go inside our house, I just feel so tired. I just wrote one, simple article and I'm this tired.

"Mom, I won't eat tonight. I just want to rest." I said to mom.

"Prim, are you sure? You should eat to get some energy." She replied.

"It's okay, mom. I really want to rest now." I demanded.

"Okay, honey. I love you." She smilingly said.

"I love you too, mom." I smiled back.

I hurriedly went to my room. Feeling the coldness of the air conditioner. Smelling the aroma of tulip kind of spray as refresher. My room has always been filled with flower designs, but not actually a primrose. The flower designs were roses, red roses filled with thorns. These designs were paintings. Mom and Dad bought them in a rose garden souvenir shop in Thailand.

It was a bit strange. This is the very first time I wonder or explore my own room. I haven't done it since I was young. As I walk going to one of my old-fashioned, patterns carved, shining in brown cabinets, I noticed something. It was on top of the cabinet. It caught my attention. It looked like a crumpled-up piece of paper. I decided to get and hold that paper. It was indeed strange as I noticed that it wasn't my penmanship. That wasn't a property of mine. It belongs to someone else.