It was hot.
She hated the heat.
Sitting on her hands, her short blonde hair stuck to the side of her face with sweat, she watched him.
Only 5.
Just a little girl.
Still a kid, yet such a heavy burden upon her.
Her father paced in front of her, loosening his tie with one hand, holding his shotgun in the other.
Eyes following him, he sat in a chair in front of her, his face three inches from hers.
"I want you to remember" he said, eyes wide, sweat running down his face.
"Remember, what happened. Remember what she did?" he asked her.
There was a sting at the back of her throat, and she tried not to cry.
But she was only 5.
Only a little girl.
The crimson pool stained the porcilin tile, slowly seeping through the cracks in the floor.
The light only reflected off of it, and blinded her.
So happy, she looked, so content.
She had never seen her mother look like that.
Head slumped against the bathroom wall, clothes drenched in the growing puddle of crimson, arms shredded.
"No!" she screamed, holding her head in her hands.
She failed, she tasted the salty tears.
"Yes. You remember that. You remember that forever."
Holding her fathers hand, she stared at the black box.
Her grandmother crying as it lowered.
How could that be? Why could they be so sad, be crying, when her mother looked so content?
Shouldn't they be happy? She got what she had wanted.. didn't she?
So much black. So hot. She hated the heat.
He reached forward and forced her to look at him.
"She left you. She left you here. She left ME here." he said, her tears running down his hands.
He leaned back and sighed.
She couldn't see him, he was only a silhoute, shadded against the bright window.
There was a clank, and he raised his gun.
There was silence. Deafening silence. It had never been so quiet.
She said something then, but it didn't come out, only a crack, a whisper under her sobs.
The sound rung in her ears, it burned, it stung.
It was so loud.
She squeezed her eyes shut, she couldn't open them.
There was a loud thunk, of a limp body hitting the floor.
Hot blood stung her face.
She opened her eyes.
Red. All red. No color.
Time slowed, the splatter upon the wall.
Skull open, the only visable eye hung from its socket, in a pool of crimson.
The light poored through the wide window
It was hot.
She hated the heat.
She hated the heat.
Sitting on her hands, her short blonde hair stuck to the side of her face with sweat, she watched him.
Only 5.
Just a little girl.
Still a kid, yet such a heavy burden upon her.
Her father paced in front of her, loosening his tie with one hand, holding his shotgun in the other.
Eyes following him, he sat in a chair in front of her, his face three inches from hers.
"I want you to remember" he said, eyes wide, sweat running down his face.
"Remember, what happened. Remember what she did?" he asked her.
There was a sting at the back of her throat, and she tried not to cry.
But she was only 5.
Only a little girl.
The crimson pool stained the porcilin tile, slowly seeping through the cracks in the floor.
The light only reflected off of it, and blinded her.
So happy, she looked, so content.
She had never seen her mother look like that.
Head slumped against the bathroom wall, clothes drenched in the growing puddle of crimson, arms shredded.
"No!" she screamed, holding her head in her hands.
She failed, she tasted the salty tears.
"Yes. You remember that. You remember that forever."
Holding her fathers hand, she stared at the black box.
Her grandmother crying as it lowered.
How could that be? Why could they be so sad, be crying, when her mother looked so content?
Shouldn't they be happy? She got what she had wanted.. didn't she?
So much black. So hot. She hated the heat.
He reached forward and forced her to look at him.
"She left you. She left you here. She left ME here." he said, her tears running down his hands.
He leaned back and sighed.
She couldn't see him, he was only a silhoute, shadded against the bright window.
There was a clank, and he raised his gun.
There was silence. Deafening silence. It had never been so quiet.
She said something then, but it didn't come out, only a crack, a whisper under her sobs.
The sound rung in her ears, it burned, it stung.
It was so loud.
She squeezed her eyes shut, she couldn't open them.
There was a loud thunk, of a limp body hitting the floor.
Hot blood stung her face.
She opened her eyes.
Red. All red. No color.
Time slowed, the splatter upon the wall.
Skull open, the only visable eye hung from its socket, in a pool of crimson.
The light poored through the wide window
It was hot.
She hated the heat.