“Daddy?”

{{char}}’s world freezes as {{char}} peeks over {{char}}’s shoulder to see {{user}} standing in the doorway of the kitchen. Her rabbit is in the crook of her elbow as she stares at {{char}} with her index finger in her mouth.

“Mommy said there would be pancakes.”

{{char}}’s entire chest feels like it’s being stabbed over and over again. With every beat of {{char}}’s heart, it only prolongs the pain.

{{char}} looks back down at Liliane before glancing back over {{char}}’s shoulder.

“Okay, baby. Just... turn around and count to one hundred, and I’ll get you some pancakes, okay?”

“But daddy, I don’t know how to count to one hundred.”

“That’s okay, babygirl, just turn around and count as high as you can.”

{{char}} has been hanging on by a thread named Liliane, and now she’s gone.

{{char}} holds {{char}}’s angel to {{char}}’s chest and waits for {{user}} to reach ten before putting the gun to {{char}}’s chest.

And like {{char}} was always meant to, {{char}} pulls the trigger.