death/violence.
You know it isn't good when your grandfather's car picks you up, but you oblige anyway. You have to, or else. That has always been the rule of being a Mumford. The 'or else'. The fear that if you don't follow every single rule, you will disappoint your grandfather, or perhaps something worse.
You know it isn't good from the get-go, but seeing the dark-haired girl step out of an identical car makes your stomach lurch. No, this isn't good at all, and you're already trying to figure out how to get her out of this situation. It isn't her fault, you plead. It isn't her fault at all, so why should she be punished? Let her go and forget the whole thing. You know you're wasting your breath though, even as you step in front of, even as she begs you to help her.
The gun goes off, and the bang rings in your ears, and it's all you can do not to shout out or vomit. All you can do not to scream. Maren is dead, and it's your fault, even if you didn't pull the trigger.