[ WP ] A man is locked in his bedroom . His zombified wife and children struggle against the door to beat it down . A loaded pistol rests on the dresser next to him .

As the scratching and beating on the door continued, only slightly louder than the growls and groans behind it, I stared at the PP7 on my dresser. Encased in plastic and as pristine as the day I received it, she bought it for me on our first anniversary. She knew me best and my love for my two interests, guns and video games. The day she brought it home and I opened the perfectly wrapped gift, I could only sob in delight and sadness when I saw it, knowing I'd never be able to compare to her thoughtfulness. 
 
 I gazed at it, the light reflecting off of its gold-plated splendor, and the noises from and beyond the door grew softer and softer. It was as if I was caught in some muffled existence, where nothing mattered anymore. Who was I without my family? 
 
 Rosie... my beautiful flower... 
 
 The door was giving way little by little as the knob shook, wobbled, and rattled. Still just me, her, and the children in the house. 
 
 No. 
 
 My wife, children, and I. Her sweetness when correcting my grammar, even when she attempted to be smug about it, always shone through. I did n't care if she was right every time or not, just that her caring nature remained throughout all of these years. She was the one who insisted the gun had to be real. Anything less was an incomplete gift, and she made that clear when another perfectly wrapped package contained specially made bullets for the fully-functioning gun. 
 
 Special. She thought *me* special. 
 
 No. 
 
 The kids were special. They had her eyes. 
 
 No. 
 
 They *have* her eyes. Her smile. Her sweetness. 
 
 As my stare broke from the gun and returned to the nearly broken-down door, I only had one option. 
 
 Running to the door, I opened it and hid behind, listening and watching as my family rushed in to find me. As they limped and shifted around, unaware of my position, I swung myself around the door and shut it, making sure to catch one last glimpse of the gift from my wife. 
 
 After securing the door, I headed downstairs and out our back door to my shed, where my gun collection was kept. Lined up on the wall like a shrine, the sun from the window shone through to light them up. Looking them over, I knew I could only choose one, as two would weigh me down and small ones just would n't cut it. 
 
 At that thought, I remembered the chest in the corner, that housed my custom-made Gunblade I bought off eBay after my first play-through of Final Fantasy VIII. I strapped it on my back utilizing the back holster and sheath it came with, proceeded out of my shed, and made sure to lock it behind me. 
 
 As I came back around front of the house, no other life in sight, I stood at the front door steps. Turning around, I walked away, around my wife's budding roses, making sure to stick to the pathway until I got to the driveway. When I got to the end of the driveway, I stopped and listened. 
 
 No sound. Peaceful. Blissful. Just like she always wanted, and we finally had. 
 
 As I headed toward certain hardship, undertaking a journey I knew would probably take my life, only one thought crossed my mind. 
 
 Lok'tar ogar.
