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The time had come. He downed the rest of the wiskey in the old crystal cup- an old wedding gift from his in-laws. His wife distracted tucking in their daughter as he went to the garade to retrive the old hunting rifle he'd inherited from his father. He waited until his wife had gone back to their own room, attempting to keep the house calm as long as possible, she'd barely been able to turn and greet him at the door when the single shot rang out. He left her on the bed as he made his way down the hallway to the door docorated in pastel butterflies and foam letters, the girl was cowering under blankets, relieved to see her father when the second shot came and the door closed once more. It was all as he planned it, they'd be a happy family once again. But he couldn't do it, though he sat on the floor of the family room, barrel in his mouth for a good hour he couldn't do it. Hastly he threw clothes into an old suitcase and fled in the families brown mini-van. He would end up going alone solely from cowardice.
I plan to refine this going forward. I think I'd perfer his wife to have been the second to die and fight back a bit. I also plan to add/write more about what happens afterwards. He very much lives in guilt and is haunted (mentally) by his actions (Not excusing or condoning, simply stating how he is after the fact). This is mid 2000s, I plan to have it take place somewhere around 2006ish.
