Mabel stared, wide-eyed, the barrel of the gun pressed against her temple. Gideon rolled the alphabetized dial of the gun, humming cheerily to himself.
"You have no one to blame but yourself, Sugarpie," he explained and she knew he was wrong. She squirmed against the rope tied tight on her wrists, cutting off circulation. Her hands were growing numb and her fingertips tingled. She itched to wrench the gun from his li'l ole hands.
"Please don't do this," she could only plead, unable to free herself, her grappling hook hanging on the waistband of Gideon's pants.
"You leave me no choice. It's the only thing in the way of us."
The gun hummed as it charged, electricity channeling into the bulbous end, and it felt like her brain was vibrating in her skull.
In bright luminous letters on the side, there was one word:
Family.