Prince Valium (continued)

You wait there, listening to the sounds made by person upstairs. You can tell that they're wary and shuffling, and you guess that it might be Little Red's grandmother on her way downstairs to see what's going on.

You've guessed correctly. Moments later, a white-haired old woman peers from the bottom of the stairwell. When she sees you, simply standing there, she sighs silently in relief.

"Is the wolf gone? Little Red told me to stay upstairs until she took care of it."

You clear your throat. "The wolf is dead."

"Oh, thank goodness, and Little Red?"

You don't know what to say. It turns out that you don't have to say a thing. The grandmother completely enters the room and stops suddenly, seeing Little Red's prone figure and raising a hand to her mouth in horror.

You gulp and continue to wait.

Then the grandmother realizes that it wasn't the wolf that killed Little Red, but a bullet to the chest. She spins to face you, sees your gun, and contorts her wrinkled face in fear and revulsion. "You!" she cries, pointing. "You killed my Little Red!"

You nod. After all, you can't refute the fact. You can't ignore the evidence, plain to see.

Later, you find yourself apprehended. Your trial starts next month, and you live miserably ever after.