I opened my eyes when it stopped and Daddy Ivan was still looking straight at me, but his head was the wrong shape now, and I knew he could see nothing but the hell he was damned to.

Daddy George let go of the rifle and it clattered on the floor. He stood there for a moment with his arms hanging at his sides, then he went over to the sideboard where the good plates was kept and he reached up to the top of it and he lifted down the pistol that had belonged to the policeman. He pulled back the hammer with his thumb and put the pistol to his head. He squeezed his eyes shut and tears ran down through the blood on his cheeks.

I heard a cry from the corner, and I turned my head and saw Mummy Noreen push herself away from the wall, running for the door, and she slipped in the blood and came down hard. She got her feet under her again and she threw herself at the door.

I didn’t see Daddy George aim the gun at her, but I heard the crack it made, and I saw the hole blown in the middle of Mummy Noreen’s back, between her shoulder blades, and she made this moaning sound as she fell across the threshold.

I looked back to Daddy George, and him at me. He stood there crying like a hurt child, the pistol in his hand, the smoke pouring from its snout. Then he turned the gun to aim at me and I knew for sure I was going to die. And I didn’t mind at all.

But I didn’t die. He let a whine out of him and he put the pistol back to his own head. He stood there crying, shaking, his finger on the trigger. Then his hands dropped down to his sides and the pistol slipped from his hand and rattled on the floor. He looked at me, and I saw all the shame and the pain in him and I wanted to tell him it was all right, it was all over now. But I said nothing, and he turned and he walked to the door and stepped over Mummy Noreen’s body on the threshold. I heard his footsteps on the stairs, the steps creaking under the weight of him, then the floorboards of his bedroom above.

I stayed there, crouched in the corner, for what felt like a terrible long time, and it was so quiet. The smoke scratched at my throat and my eyes and the smell sickened my stomach, and I think it was that got me to move: the dirty stink of it all. I stood up and pushed myself away from the wall.