It's old, antique. Might be worth something. There's still a round in the chamber. You give the cylinder a spin and snap it back into place. Reminds you of Pop's old pistol. He never did take you shooting. Never did nothin', just drank. You put it to your temple, cock the hammer, and pull the trigger. CLICK. You pop the chamber, spin it. The barrel burns your face. Just drank and hit Mom. Hit her til she screamed. Til she spit teeth on the kitchen floor. You kept one under your pillow. A part of her you'd always have in case... Cock. Pull. CLICK. Spin. Cancer got her first, so he started hittin' you instead. Hit you til your skull fractured and you ran off for good. Cock. Pull. CLICK. Spin. He didn't have nobody left to hit, so he did right by the world and blew his fuckin' brains out in a shed. Cock. Pull. CLICK. I just want to make you proud, Pop. Just once. I gotta do right, Pop. Spin. Cock. Just like you. Pull.