No more shaky hands. No more conflicting emotions nor sanity tipping on the edge.

The tip of the muzzle burned into my skin, still hot from the rounds I'd fired. But I didn't flinch. My hand was steady as I pressed the gun to my head, meeting both my parents' incredulous gazes.

Jimin's own eyes had snapped open again, sensing the shift of moods, and they widened when he saw what I was doing.

"Jiyeon, stop playing," Mom chuckled nervously but there was now uncertainty danced across her face. "This is ridiculous."

"It is ridiculous," I said softly. "But I guess it's necessary. Go on, Mom, Dad. Pull the trigger. Show everyone what kind of person you are. Show yourself what kind of person you are."

They both flinched.

"You want to know what that man provided that you couldn't? You want to know why I chose him instead of you two." My voice came out steady. Even the bullet wound in my leg had momentarily become muted. "Love. True love. The kind of love that acknowledged my right of choice. The kind of love that understood me, that listened to me, even if our beliefs were different. The kind of love you, Mom and Dad, fell short of the moment you joined the Reformists knowing damn well what kind of damage that would bring me. You give me shit for joining the other side and fighting against you. Well, you made your choice. So I made mine."

"What are you talking about?" Mom finally lowered her rifle and took a step towards me. "Jiyeon we love you. We want what's best for you. And what's best for you, for all of us, is to have our world back just the way it was."

"You don't get to make that judgement," I replied quietly. "You certainly don't get to make the call of what's best for me. Not anymore. And that's why our family was torn apart. Because you two couldn't look past your selfish love, your selfish desires, and actually talk to me and communicate with me. You decided you knew what was right, and you silenced me."

"Jiyeon—" Mom took another step towards me but froze when I tightened my fingers on the trigger.

Jimin abruptly began to struggle again, ignoring even when Dad jabbed the point of the gun harder into his head. Weak little gasps escaped him as his eyes met mine— begging me, telling me to put down the gun.

I looked away. I couldn't bear to keep staring at him. Instead I fixed my eyes on Dad. "Let him go," I whispered. "Or if you want to shoot him, do it. But I'll pull the trigger as soon as you do. Maybe then you'll finally understand how much he means to me; how much I believe in peace and equity."

"People have been trying to settle for 'peace' and 'equity' long before you, girl," Dad snapped. His tone was sharp with tension. Fear. "You think what you're doing is noble? You think giving your life will do anything? You're wrong. Many have given their lives for peace and equity and guess, what: history repeats itself. The world keeps turning. It doesn't make a difference!"

"Then maybe it's a good thing to pull this trigger," I replied. "It's because of people like you, who don't even want to try, that history repeats itself. No one is born to hate someone. They learn it. Just like they learn how to love. And if you choose hate, if you choose to pass judgement on someone for something they can't even control, then I'd rather die than live in that kind of world where you don't even attempt to understand and love."

Dad stiffened. I could hear Jimin's laborious breathing as he continued to struggle one final time. I silently screamed at him to stop. To save his energy. It was soon going to be over. It was all going to be over.

I kept my eyes locked on Dad's fingers. Tightening my grip every little bit he did.

"Enough of this!" Mom abruptly whirled around. "It's over anyways," she gasped at Dad. "We've lost. It's not worth it. This was a fool's plan anyways. All of this was a fool's plan."

Dad worked his jaw. I could practically see the wheels in his head turning. Trying to find a way that he could pull the trigger, and not simultaneously make me pull mine. I also saw the exact moment the wheels jammed into place as he realized there was no other way.

The world around me blared to life once more. Sirens wailed in the air. Out of the corner of my eyes I could see the few Purists that had attacked were now being forced on their knees with their hands above their head. Bodies sprawled across the ground and nausea rose up in me.

On the very day that this was all supposed to be over, more people had died. All because The Purists' hate and pride.

People were beginning to run towards the four of us, trainers and several police that had finally arrived on scene.

"Drop your weapon." Mom was by Dad's side, tugging at his arm.

Dad swallowed hard, eyes meeting mine. "One day your eyes are going to be open," he told me in a low voice, "and you're going to realize how fucked up beyond hope humanity is. You're going to realize that peace and equality are nothing more than illusions and daydreams."

And then the police and trainers were on us. I watched as Mom instantly dropped her rifle and surrendered. Dad was slower, but nevertheless finally dropped his weapon and was yanked away.

I watched silently. Watched as my parents were clapped in handcuffs. Watched as they were lead away, most likely to be imprisoned for who knew how long. Watched as both my parents were criminals now, taken away from me.

Maybe peace and equality was a fantasy for humans. Maybe humanity was fucked up. But we weren't beyond hope. That was where my dad was wrong. Humanity was flawed, it had many imperfections. But what made us human was trying to reach the hope which shone between the flawed cracks.

It was once believed we couldn't touch the stars, nor could we reach the moon. But we did. Because there were dreamers. Dreamers who never gave up, who fought and worked to transform the dreams to reality. We could now touch the stars, and we could reach the moon.

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