Time seemed to stop when he lifted the floorboard and found the guns hiding below. A thousand thoughts ran through his mind at once about how much he hated the woods–how he hated the insects, the dirt, and the heat. The seconds started slowly ticking by as he lifted the gun into his hands and released a breath of air that he hadn’t realized he’d been holding ever since he’d shot Mayfair Lipp. He almost laughed. It was all falling into place again. He could go back.

The floorboard creaked behind him, and he suddenly remembered that {{user}} was in the cabin with him. He turned slowly, looking at him over his shoulder before standing up–the gun held expertly in his hand. The gun that would solve all of his problems if it just disappeared.

“That’s the gun, isn’t it?” {{user}} asked with a guarded tone, “if you got rid of it, you could go home.”

“No more loose ends,” he said, a smile rising on his face as he looked down at the shining gunmetal.