On a cold and wintery morning, a light breeze swayed the flowers in people's hands, who were looking at the coffin of their dead relative. It had been snowing for several weeks, so the tombstones were covered with a white blanket. The funeral was taking place in the upper part of the cemetery, and the capacity for people who were attending it was limited. The Millers did not want a large funeral, as they believed only family should be present at events as intimate as this. They were all standing in front of the coffin, listening to the pope's requiem while stoically holding back their tears. Once the pope had finished, the only sound coming from the family were cries and uncontrollable sobbing.

One row behind, the son of the dead relative was observing how his family broke into chaos after the pope's requiem. John was standing relatively still and did not show any emotion on his face. He was dressed in all black and had a cigarette in his mouth that he stole from his dad's last pack. He knows that he should be the one in the first row leaving kisses on his father's coffin while choking on tears. But, this funeral would have never happened if John hadn't been the one to slice his father's throat four days ago. Reflecting on his own actions, John did not see what had been so wrong in his murder. Of course, he knew he must never admit to anyone that he had done it. However, even if he were to admit, he would not say his doings were wrong.

John grew up having a father who would slap him whenever he made a mistake. The mistake could have been either of little importance, such as forgetting to say hello to his neighbor on the street. His father wanted to teach John manners and principles, and at one point, the punishments kept getting worse. Pushing, punching, beating, whipping and sometimes, choking; it was all what John was enduring throughout his childhood years. He was miserable and walking on thin ice, only to be seen as perfect to his father. But, even the slightest eye movement could have been interpreted as wrong, and John would hear his dad's belt buckling. Adding up to 18 years of this torturing, John started mimicking his father's actions. The violent gene was something that was stressing him out and he would burst out on strangers, fight in taverns or rage in traffic. The moment he realized he was behaving identical to his father, he began to think either he should commit suicide, or he should give his father an ending he deserves.

All of the years of abuse the dad had been putting onto the poor child, John had never second guessed if the murder would be wrong. Consequences of the father's own actions are what made John's reaction justified. Looking at the coffin, John did not feel any guilt about it, he simply exhaled the nicotine that he had been holding onto for a while now. Pushing out his aunts, sisters and brothers, he came in front of the coffin and stared at it blankly. The closer he was, the more intimidated he began to feel. He felt as if his father was not actually dead. At that moment, he started remembering how many times he was checking if the knife really killed him. Even in that pile of blood and a throat sliced open wide enough to see the esophagus hanging from the neck, John was not fully convinced of his death. Identical feeling came over him right now. The coffin looked as if it would be opened at any moment, and his father would jump out, and give John an even worse ending than his own. As if a force had punched him in the face, John began to shake, and the cigarette butt he wanted to put out on his fathers coffin fell onto the ground. Uncontrollably shaking, John's throat was closing and his cheeks were watery from all the tears that were pouring from his eyes. He felt like he could not breathe at the moment and his legs gave up. He could hear the men working at the cemetery putting down his father's coffin. The moment the coffin hit the ground, John felt his heart tighten. The Millers were throwing soil into the grave, and all of a sudden John had to stop this act, since he needed to tell the truth. The guilt he thought he did not have, and the justification of his actions were erased within seconds, as he came to the conclusion that killing is wrong, no matter the circumstances. He began to shout and scream how he cold-heartedly murdered his own father, their close relative. He was laughing and crying at the same time, while screaming in detail what he had done. The whole family froze in place and began to step away from this boy they once knew as a quiet and obedient child. The child who grew up to be a murderer. In the effect, John pulled out a knife from his pocket, the same knife he murdered his dad, and sliced his own throat in front of everyone. He landed on top of the wooden coffin, and became one with what he had always feared - his father.