My last memory of truly being alive is of giving that gun to her. My second last memory? It's of him. The next thing I knew I was falling, dying, but as I fell I knew it was all my fault. You can choose to be good right? You can choose to fight the emotion, the anger that's welling up inside you making you go insane. Or, you can choose to give into it. At the time the second option was easier. Yet at the same time I couldn't help but wonder. 'Is this what he would've wanted?' another thought that crossed my mind just before I hit the ground was 'making her kill me must have been so hard... after all we were just like sisters.' but at that time, when I gave her the gun, I was trying my hardest not to kill her. I knew that if I killed her then all would have failed.