Sure, the gun was nice and all, but what really interested Garrett was the case. The black, plastic case was small, he could easily slip it into his pocket. Inside the case was six .44 Magnum FMJ bullets. Taped to the inside of the lid was a folded note. Garrett took the paper and unfolded it, resulting in an 8x11" sheet of paper. A few paragraphs lined the page, reading:
Here it is, Garrett, as I promised. Now, read carefully. Picture in your head your family for a moment. Picture little Brandon, little Kyle. Picture your beautiful wife Gina and your parents, John and Laura. Finally, picture your sister, Danielle. Now... picture them all DEAD. That's what's going to happen if you use this gun.
Don't get it yet?
There are six bullets. There are six members in your family, besides you. The soul of each family member is inside of each bullet. Not to fear, they're all currently fine and living their lives. But, if you choose to fire these bullets with that gun, they will die. So, fire your gun wisely during the prison break, okay? As long as you hold this gun in your possession, you are supernaturally restricted from using other firearms. You can't get rid of this gun either. One more thing: every time a bullet is fired, someone has to die. If no target is hit, the bullet will actively seek out the nearest individual.
You said before that you had nothing to lose, right? Have fun, Garrett.
Garrett checked the bullets. Indeed, each had been inscribed with a family member on it. Mom, dad, wife, eldest son, youngest son and sister. "I can't do this", Garrett whispered, still clutching the open note in his hands.
But, Garrett's execution was tomorrow. It was either use the gun and get out, killing a few or all of my family in the process, or die. As he thought about it... and thought about it... and thought about it... the more narcissistic Garrett Vermilion became. By noon, he was halfway to considering using the gun. By six, he was positive. By seven, he'd already made his first kill with it.
The first kill was a caretaker by the name of Adam Green. Unlike the other "wussies" who handed inmates their dinners from the other side, Adam preferred to go into the cells and personally give them their meals. This gained him huge respect from inmates all over the penitentiary. But tonight was not Adam's lucky night. Adam came into Garrett's cell and placed the tray of food on his table, but before he could leave, Garrett shot the caretaker in the face. The man died instantly. Garrett had used the bullet containing his father's soul; a man in his life who had never been a father figure to him, a man he could've cared less about. Before anyone could respond to the sound of gunfire, Garrett had already stolen the caretaker's keys and bulletproof armour.
Running through the corridors of Cell Block A, Garrett was greeted by various trapped inmates. Many cheered him on, but some actually asked him to take them along. He ignored all of them and pressed forward, towards the exit sign at the end of the hall.
Garrett ran through the school halls. It was after midnight, but Garrett was still at the school. Why? His father, the 4th grade teacher, had forbade him to leave. When the janitors left and the rest of the staff went home as well, Garrett's father abused him. On this particular night, his father was drunk on scotch and crazier than ever before. Even in his intoxicated state, he was quickly gaining on the ten year old Garrett. "Daddy, stop!" he pleaded, "Daddy, please, I'm scared!" he begged.
But to no avail. Every single night it ended the same way: daddy won. At home, Garrett was forbidden to tell his mother and sister about it. His only confidant was the family dog, an elderly 11 year old husky named Kiki. The dog always provided a listening ear outside in the yard underneath the night stars.
When Garrett entered his teenage years, Kiki died of liver failure. With no one to trust in and few trustworthy friends at school, Garrett turned to drugs, cigarettes and alcohol. He soon became as abusive to his girlfriends as his father had been to him. His relationships were few and short, his vocabulary lacking as well. After a heated argument with his father, the latter ended up in the hospital with a heart attack. Garrett left home after that incident, hoping that he'd never have to see his father ever again. That was the last he'd ever heard or seen of his father.
Decades later, on the 13th of February, Garrett Vermilion killed his father, who was 2000 miles away in a retirement home. The father had died quickly and painlessly. His last thoughts were regrets, regretting how he had treated his son Garrett... all those years ago. His wife, in the bed beside him, wouldn't realize that he was dead until several hours later, on the morning of the 14th. What a great Valentine's Day it was.