He stared at the shiny surface of her weapon before falling to his knees. "You don't have to do this. "

Tears flowed down her eyes as she forced a heavy breath, aiming the gun at his head. "If only that were true. "

* * *

That is a prompt, "guns and shards" from #Justwriteit- prompts and the beginning of the story.

* * *

I had to. I did!

If Lana didn't repeat that she might just go crazy. It had become sort of a mantra.

She had killed him.

He had known too, had turned to face her when she just wanted to be a coward and shoot him at the back of the head.

Then had come to a conclusion. A wrong but completely plausible one she could not blame him for.

He had though getting close to him was part of a plan, that all the time they had shared was all a ploy.

All the friendliness, the happy had vanished. His face had set, hardened into a blank mask.

He wasn't a fighter, he had know he couldn't escape. Had also left his guard outside because she had said she wanted them to be alone while they watched the movie, that she wouldn't be comfortable with him around.

He had fallen to his knees. Looked up at her. Left himself at her mercy.

Yet she could see that there was a miniscule part of him which believed she wouldn't do it. Believed she might not be all bad.

That had hurt her the most.

She had then proceeded to shoot him in the forehead and climb out the window of his lavish bungalow.

Lana hiccuped back a sob.

It had been a drive back home, a bath and three hours yet she was still crying.

Lana forced herself up, head aching badly, when her stomach had finished its mourning and announced in a loud, grumbly voice that it was hungry.

She almost passed the picture of her family in the small living room but, of course, he caught her eye.

The tears stopped. She paused and glared at him so hard he might just feel it wherever he was.

She hated the bastard.

He was the cause of this. All of it.

Vincent Bently couldn't have been a normal father who worked in an office or owned a carpentry shop. No, he just had to be a drug peddler. And worst, had to get addicted to the drugs he pushed and spend all the money he made plus her mother's sweat to feed his addiction.

Then when her mother started to keep her money out of the reach of his grubby fingers, he found other means. Pawning off his family!

By the time those he owed came to collect a year ago, he had gotten through three members of her family.

She hadn't believed it. Sure, he was a shit father but he couldn't be that shitty as to trade his flesh and blood for drugs, she had thought.

Turns out he had been that shitty.

There was no doubt about the drugs though. He had become a staggering, willowy man with wispy brown hair who didn't know who he was half of the time.

They had left her because she was nineteen; the right age to be able to work and pay of the debt. Couldn't be him because, in addition to his mental and physical state, he had pawned himself off too.

Oh, how she hated him.

Her eyes lost their venom and shoulders drooped as they turned to her smiling mother. With long blonde hair, brown eyes and three kids each four years apart from the other, she was still stunningly beautiful.

Her eyes move down. Ava and Jeremy smiled at her too. That gave her the strength to stop chanting the mantra. It wasn't right, but it was what she had to do.

They all had their mother's wavy hair but she was the only one cursed with her father's puke green eyes.

Had she mentioned she absolutely despised him?

"It's ok, Mama. Two more to go. "