He didn’t regret doing the murder. The blood from Bughaloo's chest flowed and reached at his daughter's feet. The child looked blank and petrified as if she was the one killed instead of her father.

Due to fear she vomited her stomach acid and semi digested bread pieces out. Then she only vomited stomach air out before she started to lose her consciousness. Then the horrific event made her fall beside her father, with half of her face painted by blood.

Hansen was taking long breathes like he was having Asthma attack and he had no idea for how long he hadn’t even blinked his eyes. If the girl hadn’t passed out then she would have seen Hansen gazing at them with ping pong ball sized eyes.

He felt the fear of being caught even though he had put silencer on the gun's nozzle. The sound which gun had made was equivalent to sound of bomb blast in television shows. It was just like he had seen Gulf War in television. The blood was now leaking to the doorsteps outside from the gap. He knew how hard it was to remove blood stains from white painted concrete stairs.

He pulled dead Bughaloo and attempted to stop blood from going out. Deighan would not feel delighted to see Hansen's doorsteps stained by blood when he would come. He had a plan for it too but now he had to manage corpse somewhere.

He thought how easy it would have been for him if he had a big plastic sack where he could put the little old hobbit in. He moved on, almost threw up like the child, and grabbed arm of Bughaloo and pulled the man up to waist level.

Blood still ran out without any halt but somehow he turned him over and avoided more blood to come in contact with the floor.

Hansen turned off the lights of the room and then he ran to the basement imagining he would get shovel to bury the body. He held the shovel by his right hand and he felt the pain caused by baseball bat's strike.

Holding the shovel was painful. Digging the pit, all by him, of size enough to put a man in was going to be nothing more than physical punishment to him. He held the shovel and made his way to the garden when he started to feel rain drops on him.

He didn’t even think for a second and started using his spade like an insane man on the hard ground. Each time he had managed to displace some amount of mud he would start to clutch his arm and then roar in agony. He attempted twice but his active hand had given up. For five minutes he was trying to dig a pit but couldn’t even make a pit enough to fit two soccer balls, let alone the human.

He knew he couldn’t bury the man there. It would have been nothing more than insanity to follow traditional manner of hiding murder. He sat on the wet grass and on disposed mud to take breather. Hansen had suddenly turned insane and much more violent than he had ever imagined.

He left the heavy shovel there along with the small pit in there as he realized the girl was just unconscious due to trauma. For such a long time, he had forgotten about her presence and had witnessed her father's murder.

While running to the locked front door, Hansen questioned himself if he had locked all the windows too or not. Had the girl broken the glass window and escaped?

Each dig of shovel made the doubt within him fainter. Convincing himself looked easier with a heavy shovel in his hands. When he rotated the door knob with his slipper hand, he hoped he was right.

He bumped inside his house like he was attempting to run in a marathon. He had turned off the lights and his eyes couldn’t adjust in the darkness (for he had come from moonlight outside). The worst, he couldn’t find the switch before something found him. He had just locked the door back when something metallic hit on his stomach with heavy force.

He wasn’t sure what he was hit with but had clear idea regarding who was behind this blow. The child was now conscious and was trying to hit him with anything within her reach. Those little arms had wrath driving themselves.

He didn’t know what objects were coming at him and had no option other than to save his head. Hansen switched the bulb on then saw a furious child's face covered in her father's blood. Maybe she had been hugging his dead father by wishing she might save him.

And most critical thing among everything, she had Hansen's gun with her. The little finger struggled to get wrapped around the trigger.

Hansen had left the gun inside!

At last she had found something which could make him plead for mercy.