• Jack shut the journal in anger. He slammed the hardback book down on the old rotting desk with a fire in his eyes. Quick to respond, he went out of the room going down the hallway at a slow, somewhat scary speed. Eyeing down the door that led to his uncle's workshop, millions of thoughts swam through his mind. He finally approached the door, stopping for a second to think. It seemed as if time had stopped. He pulled his hand from his side, and slowly wrapped his around the door knob. Using his other hand he slid his fingers down his belt to find the butt of his gun. Jack scratched the handle with his index finger, then dropped his hand back to his side. The door opened, and Uncle Greg turned around from his workbench only to see Jack standing there. A piercing boom sound filled the air, but the following sharp pain in Greg's shoulder stopped him from noticing the noise. Greg glimpsed over to his shoulder, seeing a large wound in it, then turning his head a little more only to see blood and skin splattered on the wall behind him. "What the ******** is this, Jack?" he exclaimed. "I might have seen your journal, I might have read about your decision to give up my father to save your own worthless life." Jack was far past angry by now and was furious when he saw his Uncle's face. Greg stared into Jack's eye for a moment, grasping his shoulder to stop the bleeding. He quickly snapped his other hand out towards the pistol on the workbench. Jack pushed his gun up, firing two shots down to Greg's hand. One ricocheted off the metal table and smashed against the wall. The other cut into Greg's wrist. Greg dropped back onto the table, resting his shoulder against the wall. "You're being selfish, Jack!" "Me. If it wasn't for my dad you wouldn't have anything and you would be dead. You owed him your life, but instead of paying him back, you do the low thing and sell him to the rivals. You're a disgrace." Jack aimed up to Greg's chest, waiting for him to respond. "Jack, I'm your ********' family!" Greg said, spitting blood out of his mouth. "Not anymore," explained Jack, afterward shooting Greg in the chest five times. The sight of his Uncle Greg falling to the ground, holes popping in his torso, blood spat out of his body, gave Jack the same feeling he always has when he murders an enemy. Happiness, sorrow, confusion.