My daughter got back today, she had been out alone doing research in Antarctica, and some say that the isolation messed with people’s minds, made them crazy. But that couldn’t happen with Helen, she was too sweet, too kind, and sensible. She wouldn’t go insane, it wasn’t possible. We threw a welcome home party for her, many people came, family and friends of the family. But everything went wrong, she wasn’t her sweet caring self, it seemed that some one had taken over her body. She had brought her gun to the party, saying that she felt protected by it. We dismissed it carelessly. But that was a mistake; she turned on us and laughed, saying that we suffocated her, wouldn’t let her breath. She aimed her gun, first at me "you! It’s all your fault" and she shot.
The world slowed down, the bullet’s path was aimed straight at my head, I saw the shocked faces of my family and friends. I saw the grin on the face of my killer. That wide toothy grin, the glinting eyes, and the hair all spread out like a halo. The bullet was straight and true, I would die from the hands of my own daughter, my very flesh and blood, her own eyes so much like my own, it looked like my own reflection. The bullet blew off the side of my face and entered my brain, and lodged in there. I fell back wards and by the time my dead husk of a body fell to the ground, I was dead. I floated upward and watched my daughter kill off the rest of her own family, the last one was her little cousin, she closed her eyes and aimed at the five year old. The bullet hit the girl’s shoulder, she cried out. The second bullet missed, the little girl sobbed and collapsed. My daughter walked over to the girl and thumped the handle of the gun on her head, hard. At last my daughter stood up and looked at the destruction around her, she fell to the floor weeping, the gun fell out of her hand. My daughter picked up the gun again and held it up to her head, she put her finger on the trigger and breathed beep, "I’m sorry," she fired, and she fell backwards, dead.