[ WP ] He had four day 's of stubble , an old shotgun , and a promise to break .

The decision took four days to make. Four days, of agonizing, painful decision making. But he finally did it. The decision came to him after his third bottle of booze, and the haziness started to take hold. 
 
 He was going to kill the boy. 
 
 The hunting shotgun was loaded. Two buckshot. That was all he needed. The scarred outline along the barrel went along the entire length, it being created when it was cracked against a pine tree. Still, it was able to fire. The barrel was clean of gunpowder. 
 
 He neglected to shave. Why should he? He did n't need an appearance anymore. Four days of sharp grey stubble lined his chin and sideburns. The hairs were numerous. His grey hair dropped down to his forehead. His eyes were glazed like a porcelain doll. A ripped orange coat. Hunting jeans. He had n't changed in days. And god, his breath. He forgot to brush. The rotted spit in his mouth tasted like old fish. He had to spit a few times to get rid of it, but it would always appear a few minutes later. His tongue felt disgusting. 
 
 The kitchen was dim, the lights outside dark and the nighttime taking hold. A horde of dishes lined the sink, some clean, some dirty. The shotgun laid on the table. His head was in his arms. He shook his head, dried the tears, but continued to let some drip to the oak table. He had already cried long enough. The boy was n't going to see him like this. No, no, he would look strong. But he could n't help it. He spent the next few minutes locating a dishrag to dry his face, then threw it to the floor. His mind was still foggy from the drink. The bottle was empty, and not a lick of liquid was left. 
 
 Swiping the shotgun from the table, he crawled his way up the stairs. The stairs creaked and moaned loudly, easing his footsteps up and up towards the boy's room. A dog barked outside. It was quickly silenced with a yap. 
 
 The boy's door was white, bleached almost. Oak, and sturdy. It would make noise when he opened it. It did n't matter though - the boy was a heavy sleeper. He opened the door and got in, shutting his eyes when the door creaked, but opened them when the creaking stopped and the boy did n't wake up. 
 
 Children look so peaceful when they sleep. The wispy hair leaps from their scalps and droop over their clear foreheads, the cute little smile on their face lighting up the bedroom. But the boy was n't smiling now. The smile was gone. His arms laid over the red bedsheets. He was only five years old. 
 
 God, why was he dead? 
 
 The man stared silently at the boy. It had been four days for decision making. Four days to figure out what to do now without the boy. It was an accident. He was drunk, the boy was crying - the steps. The boy fell down the steps. He did n't shove him, no, the boy fell himself when he was running. Running from the man. The Monster, the boy screamed. Then, he tripped, crack, crack, a sickening crunch, and the boy had cracked his skull on the bottom step, his dainty little legs crashing into the wall. The Monster did n't notice until later. He had n't heard the fall. He simply went to his room to sleep. He found the body the next morning when he went downstairs to get medicine for his hangover. The neighbors had n't noticed the screaming that night. The Monster received calls from the boy's school, asking where he was. He never missed a day. The Monster was too scared to answer, to hear the secretary on the phone. He would've choked up. 
 
 He laid the boy in his bed. He did n't smile. He was dead. No going back now. 
 
 `` Take care of the boy'', his wife said. That was when the boy was only a baby. She was dead in childbirth. A broken promise. That was all his fault, he admitted. But he could n't blame himself for the boy. 
 
 The shotgun was loaded. He turned the barrel to his head. No tears. No anger. Empty. 
 
 `` I'm sorry, boy.'' 
 
 The crack of a trigger, the shock of the barrel going off. Crash, the Monster's body went. It ruptured the awards on the dresser. The dog barked outside again, and howled. It was silenced by another yelp. 
 
 `` Take care of the boy.''
