Back home, Jack lifted the pistol down from the top of the linen closet, got the clip from the lower drawer of his father's desk. He pushed the clip sharply up into the grip, heard the `click', then hurried down the hallway toward his room, palms sweating.
Shelly sat on the end of the bed, looking away from him, out the window. Jack walked up to her quickly, racked the weapon, and she turned. He brought the barrel of the pistol up and pressed it against her forehead saying, "And all I do is pull the trigger."