I wasn't sure that I was actually going to do it. But when dad came charging up the stairs at me--telling ME to get out of MY own room. I couldn't take it anymore. I squeezed the trigger without thinking and there dad was falling backwards down the stairs into a patehetic heap on the ground. Mom came rushing up at me with her trusty baseball bat, a bat that she had used numerous times on her own son. It was all that I could see. This bat coming at me for the last time. And then, there they were, piled on top of each other, right where they belonged.
go home