Raise a boy to be one. Am I what I was raised to be? The gun shakes in my hand. It’s not the first gun I’ve held, won’t even be the first time I’ve pulled the trigger, watched the spark of life leave someone’s eyes, while another piece of my soul died alongside them, but this time is different. It matters. This moment will define the rest of my life. I’ll be able to measure every minute before this one, and after it, like a clock tells time. Before, a child. After, a Rastelli. I can’t do it. The thought…