Parachute

Right. Shannon was a bright man. He had a sordid past. His future wasn’t looking much better, but for different reasons. While growing up he made bad decisions. Most of his decisions only adversely affected himself. A few affected the people he loved, those decisions he couldn't live with. He lived with guilt for most of his life. When he was 13 he briefly exposed himself to the children next door while he was entrusted to baby-sit them. He was unsure why he did this, even at the time, but he did it nonetheless. From that day forward the shame he had consumed him.
He refused all things sexual in nature. He never dated, never married and never watched movies where the women were too attractive. He spent most of his time worrying. He worried he ruined the lives of his victims, whom had all had issues with drugs and later had all commited sucide before they turned 25. He worried about his motives. He worried about celestial reprocusions. He worried that no one would believe that he was miserable. He worried that no one would ever understand that he might worry too much about himself than the children. But mostly, he worried that there was nothing he could do, no amount of good he could do in the world, to make up for the mistake he made 40 years ago.
He was afraid that if he made one more terrible decision the reverberations would find its way to the children, drudging up old memories of that fateful day. So he lived clean. He made a decent living as a dog trainer. The little money he had left over after his rent and utilities he donated to charities. He never drove. He rode the same bicycle he owned when he was 13 as a constant reminder that one decision can affect the rest of his life. He fastened a spike to the inside of a small belt. He attached the belt under his left pant leg and tightened it to cause him constant pain. He never complained.
Shannon came home on a Tuesday and prayed that God would forgive him. He was not a religious man, but at this stage in his life, he saw no other alternatives. He finished his recompense and walked down to the gas station. It was the first time he did not ride the bike in 40 years. He bought a small bottle of Gin. He had never drunk before, but has secretly admired the detectives he read about in novels who did.
He went home and had a glass of the cheapest Gin offered at Shell. He thought of the four children and fought back tears. The small amount of Gin had made him drunk. He slowly walked to the closet and pulled out a small cigar box he had hidden behind a bowling ball his mother left him when she died, an event he believed was a result of his deed. He took the box to the couch and sat there staring at it. He poured another glass of Gin but couldn't drink it.
He closed his eyes and opened the box. He slowly reached in and found a World War II Luger his father had stolen from a German body. He loaded one bullet into the chamber. He placed the barrel of the foreign pistol into his open mouth and pulled the trigger.
Upon his death he learned one important thing. The children never even noticed. They were playing the floor is hot lava and didn't even notice his action. They wouldn't even had cared. Their father had molested them from the time they were three until they were 15.