He heaved a sigh as he walked down the hallway. The revolver hung heavy in his hand. He had no idea what model or brand or whatever the gun was supposed to be. He'd gotten it at a pawn shop for $15, along with a little blue soldier toy for a mere 50 cents. It was cheap. The paint on the toy was chipped, but its expression of determination haunted him.

He was exhausted. He was done. He couldn't take this any longer.

"Hey, kiddo..." He called. He'd reached his son's room. This was probably the first time they'd talked...

Fault. Always so unclear.

Perhaps the fault was mine. Perhaps I shouldn't have pushed so hard. All I wanted was a taste. Just a glimpse of what she was thinking. Was I really in the wrong for that?

"Look. Just... Tell me what's wrong."

"I don't want to."

Obstinate. Here I am, just trying to figure out what's wrong with her or if she's okay and she doesn't want to share with me.

"You know you can tell me."

"I can't."

"I'm not going to judge you for anything, you know."

A shrug. Too bad, she's saying to me. You...