Change of Perspective

Past Memories (Dean)

His dad rushed at him, hands tensed and outstretched, ready to clamp around his neck. He backed away, groping for something to defend himself, his hand closed around the handle of the gun his dad had been waving around earlier. He brought it in front of him and hastily pulled the trigger. The barrel jerked backward, cracking his thumb and splitting his lip. His mother screamed, running toward the fallen man. In his panic he jerked his trigger finger, firing the gun, sending an ill aimed bullet straight though his mother's head.

Choking on his own breath he dropped the deadly weapon, stumbling back from the pooling blood. His back hit the front door, and he yanked the thing open and darted out, tripping over his feet in his haste.

There were screams from the neighboring houses, light blinking on and figures running to the open door. More screams erupting as they found themselves in a crime scene.

His heart pounded and he bit back tears.

The quiet house of his girlfriend appeared before him, his legs carrying him to the window that he had knocked on so many times before. She answered immediately, a gasp parting from her lips as her eyes took in his disheveled appearance.

Her window shot up and he clambored in, falling in a heap on her carpeted floor. She knelt in front of him, rubbing his shoulder. When he finally was able to choke out his mistake she remained mute, positioning her pregnant body around him in a warm hug.

He felt the baby kick inside her, her flinch from the quick pain.

His mind sunk into the familiar darkness, a impulsive and rash state.

Even as he knew it was wrong he brought his shaking hands to her neck, pressing the soft spot that dropped her in an unconscious heap at his feet.

This way it wouldn't hurt.

They could escape the pain.

Finally.

When she was freed he started on himself, bringing the razor to his wrists, slashing deeply, repeatedly.

Until the sirens came.

He was ready to walk out there, let them shoot him, kill him.

Then, a buzz in his pocket. Somehow his phone had remained intact. He laughed as he looked at the text, smile fading quickly.
Help.
Meet @ redwood park
Plz.

He dropped the device.

Doing one last thing before climbing out of the window and running to meet the two kids.

A piece of paper blew into the pool of blood, the red soaking one of the corners. The scrawled writing still clear as day.
I did it
-Dean Moore

Yes it's short, and I'm sorry we are still at a cliffhanger, but, I'm wanting the next part to be really good, so it might take a while to write.
But this is a little background on Dean, so you can come to your own conclusion.
Is he a good person? Or evil? Or insane? Or unfortunate?
And...
How sad would you be if I told you we may be nearing the end?
Loves yous :)
Also, if this absolutely sucks I'm running on less than four hours of sleep, I'm pretty proud I can form coherent sentences at this point...