The gunshot went off with a startling explosion. Blood splattered everywhere. A six year old version of A, Adrienne Adrenaline, shielded his face from the blood. It dripped down his forehead. His father slumped over in his seat. The contusions, bruises and lacerations covered A's arms. Maybe he wasn't sorry, though he was on the verge of tears.
Clack. The gun slipped from the once military commander's hand.
A began whimpering, hugging himself. His lip trembled, biting down on it, blood seeped through his teeth. Curling up on the floor, he whispered to himself.
"Just a dream... just a dream. My dad will wake me up in a few minutes; with his bat... it's just a dream."
Time passed, it was days, possibly weeks before anyone found A...