It's better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all.

                  "I'm old, Tyler. I'm tired!" McGuirre gave in. "I'm old and tired, is what I'm telling you. So, please, I beg. You've had enough of this. Stop it... or I'll stop it for you." His white brows crumpled over his eyes as he stood up.

                   Smirk. "Stop it how, exactly?" Quick, for an old-timer, was McGuirre's hand to pick up his gun, load it, aim it, and shoot.

                     Tyler's eyes jerked open in shock. His heart skipped a beat as he fell on his knees. He breathed hard as he took in what just happened. He shot a hateful killing intent to him. "Bastard! You almost hit me."

                     "Exactly." McGuirre kept his gun, walked over to the door and clutched the knob. "That would be my last warning." He looked over to the photo of Hanna hung behind Tyler's head. "Leave her." He shut it close.

                      He stood back up and turned around. He stared straight with fearful eyes. With shaking hands, he slowly reached out his tensed arms, took the picture frame, and clutched it desperately. He fell on his knees again, shaking his head in disbelief. With tears welling up in his eyes, he cursed at the skies. "Never!" He clutched onto the frame, crushing it, making his soft hands bleed.

"...never." He whimperred.