• His heart throbbed loudly behind his ears, his nerves were going haywire, adrenaline ran thicker than the blood in his veins, yet his hands were steady and his breathing was even. Nicholas took in a deep breath as he slowly pushed opened the door. His mother laid on her bed with her legs tangled up in the sheets. He stood in the doorway for only few seconds before he crossed the threshold. She groaned and he froze. His heart thudded faster and louder than before, but she just rolled over and settled herself once more. His finger slowly and quietly eased the safety off on the rifle that he carried in his hands as he stalked forward. His feet made quiet steps on the carpeted floor.

    Nicholas stopped a few feet from the bed where his mother slept. He raised the gun, and lined up the sight. His head was full of whispers, all of them telling him to do something different. They were trying to talk him out of it. They told him to call the police, and let them handle it. A few of them said to just run away and leave the awful place behind while a few others begged him not do this. Then one voice rose above all of the rest. It was the voice of his dark passenger. It encouraged him to continue with his plan. The whispering grew louder in his head. They all were reminding him that the woman lying in the bed was his mother, and that she raised him and took care of him. Nicholas had to bite back a snarl. He could not believe that they would dare call her his mother. She was not a mother. What mother would beat her children? What mother would deny food and water, and lock them in a closet for days on end? What mother would sell her own daughter to get money for her own dark habits? No, that monster was not his mother.

    The image of his younger sister flashed in his mind. Clara wanted to be a doctor because she wished to help people. She always believed the best in people, and nursed his wounds when their mother hit him. She did not deserve this life, but it was this life that ended her. She and their mother went out one night, but Clara didn't come back in the morning.

    Nicholas’ hand gripped the gun in a tighter hold as his rage took a hold of him. The whispers were now shouting in his head in a confusing fog of commotion. All of them were struggling with him to understand that this was not the way, and they only grew louder. Then the whispering voice his dark passenger filled his ears as if it was right next to him.

    “Do it now,” it said, and that was the only voice that he wanted to listen to.

    The rifle went off.