Blood soaks into sheets and blankets spread across the bed, dripping down onto the floor creating many small puddles. Dust continues to fall from the hole in the ceiling, small bits of insulation and tiny chips of wood lightly cover the area below the puncture. The smoke mixes with the metallic smell in the air, creating a thick, vomit-inducing cloud that hovers around the room and slowly spreads through the door and out into the hallway.

The neighbors already reported the gunshot.

They knew things had been rough in the Mous household. A few arguments outside were all it took to get the attention of the surrounding families in the neighborhood. The most nosey of them all, an old triceratops couple living in the house next door, were the ones that heard the shot ring out. They had talked with the young couple in the past, separately of course. A fishing trip here, a visit to the local mall there, maybe a playdate with their granddaughter or two. It didn’t take long for them to be caught up on the issues that plagued the human and pterodactyl duo.

The husband, Anon, had gone into the military some years before, completed his contract, and made it home mostly unharmed. He’s training now to be a police officer. The wife, Lucy, was left alone after getting into it with her friends. After that and her then-boyfriend heading off to war, she was left with nothing. She did however find comfort in church and in the tiny terrors of the church's daycare, where she spent her days working.

They have a daughter, a 6-year-old pterodactyl named Amber. She looks exactly like her mother. She’s in the same class as the triceratops’ granddaughter, Sera. 

She’s getting off the bus in a few minutes, she’ll be called over and distracted while the police and paramedics move forward with the unnecessary, yet required, investigation.

An upwards-facing shotgun blast to the skull, taking out most of the brain and leaving a giant hole where it once was. The empty shell sits in the chamber, the gun lies on the floor in front of the victim, and the body is slumped over on its side. An officer scribbles into his notebook, “sitting on the edge of the bed, note lying next to him, fired the shot and gravity did the rest.”

Open and shut really, PTSD isn’t uncommon for vets, and neither is suicide.

There's a new car outside, the chiefs. He makes his way through the house and up the stairs, pushing past a few of the responders. Nobody has time to fill him in before he’s in the room, looking down at the corpse of his son-in-law. Faint mumbles and sighs escape him as he stares at the body, his hands clenching and unclenching, small head shakes, and barely any blinking. He’s only torn out of his internal turmoil when another car door slams outside. Quickly making his way to the window and peaking out causes his stomach to drop.

His daughter's silver car is parked in the grass, the other cars blocking her entrance. He barely catches sight of her wings through the window as she runs up to the house. By the time he makes it out the door and down the hall, she’s there, panting hard and in a panicked state. Barely comprehensible pleas to her father, over and over asking the same questions while not waiting for the responses.

What happened?

Where’s Amber?

Did something happen to Anon?

She knew he had… issues. They made themselves known relatively quickly. The nightmares were a big one, leaving her husband a crying broken mess most nights for the first few years of their marriage. She would lay with him at night, wrapping her wings around him and praying that he could get some rest. He made a joke about suicide then, how easy it would be to end it all and finally get some sleep. She cried so hard that day. She made him swear he would never hurt himself, he was all she had left to live for. That's how Amber came about. Lucy would never admit it, but she knew. Amber was born to stop her Dad from killing himself.

“He won’t leave Amber behind, he loves her too much to do that.”

Turns out Anon had a similar idea.

“…She has Amber…”

“…Amber will keep her company…”