With the gun fully loaded in my shaky hands, I felt powerful. Just one shot and this whole thing would be over, I would save my mother. But, it's already too late.

It wouldn't be the first time that my father came home this drunk, but it has been a while. He always blamed it on the troubles that he had trying to keep his company on track, but I knew it was more than that.

It was because of me being born. Before my mother became pregnant with me, he was blinded by her beauty and passion for life. And then one slip up made it all go down hill. They became teenage parents, and that destroyed my fathers promises and dreams with my mother.

My fathers wealthy parents cut him off completely and they barely had a dime. Sure, my grandma and grandpa tried the best they could to help provide, but they weren't the richest people in South Dakota.

Nine months later, me, the mistake was born. We were a happy family at first, yes my sixteen year old parents were stared at, but it didn't seem to matter to them.

  I'm pretty sure that my fifth birthday was the last time I saw my father actually happy. It was when he taught me how to ride my new bike. Any point beyond that was endless fights between my parents and me running off to my hiding place. I could hear the slamming doors, but at five I never thought anything of it. I never even thought that my father was hurting himself, as well as my mother.

At ten I began to understand, after I learned about those things in school. The things that hurt people. My mother had just finished preparing dinner, it was around eight, like always we were waiting for my father to come home from his garage.

The front door slammed shut and I remember seeing the nervous look cross my mothers face. It was one that said, "I don't want my little girl to see this".

Loud foot steps tramped through the hallway into the kitchen. There stood a man that I knew, but barely recognized. The alcohol smell so so strong, it burned my nostrils. He looked like a wreck with a five o'clock shadow and greasy hair. Right then and there I could tell my father was coming undone. The strings in his heart were broken.

"Daddy, why are you doing this to yourself?" I can remember asking, him rolling his eyes, my mothers worried look becoming stronger. It was wise words for a ten year old.

"This girl will never be good enough. I told you that before the day she was born." My father shouted at the top of his lungs to my mother, spit flying everywhere.

Ten year old me, ran off crying to my old hiding place. The place I believed that I would never have to be in again.   I heard the shouts and screams, winced at the sound of flying dishes. Then everything went quiet and I could hear my father swearing to himself. He was shouting to God, asking him for forgiveness. My mothers right eye was bright purple for a week and she became weak. He always promised every time after he hit her that he'd stop. She'd believed him because she loved him, but he stopped loving her. That never happened. If it did, my hands wouldn't be shaking, holding the trigger of this cold gun.

My father has lost all of my trust. My mother is crying out in pain on the floor. I know he really hurt her this time because she hasn't cried in 6 years, since I was ten.

The gun isn't doing anything to stop him, he's become too prone to any weakness. My father knows I'm standing here, watching. Maybe he thinks its some kind of punishment for me being born, probably. I destroyed his whole life, in his mind.

My mother's body goes limp and he stops. He looks to the Heavens, like he always does. I rush over to my mother, there is still a heartbeat.

My father's eyes are locked on me, like he has finally come to a revelation. "I'm sorry." I think I hear him whisper. The sirens are blaring in the background, so I can't hear him.

Finally these horrible sixteen years are coming to an end. My mother lies in the hospital, smiling at me. She thanks for constantly for saving her life, she always says that I was never a mistake. And I realize that it was never too late.