At Kevin's feet lay the shattered corpses of the the three children he had just slaughtered with a pair of rusty garden shears and a plastic coat hangar: the little baby girl with the curiously sharp teeth, the nerdy-looking boy with glasses and the pretty girl with her hair tied back to keep it out of her face.
He hadn't meant to hurt them - not really - especially not the girl with the ribbon, but Kevin had completely lost control of himself when the girl had started screaming. Looking back, he couldn't really blame her - he must have looked like something out of a nightmare after eating all of that contaminated food and water for so long - and the weeks of isolation, darkness and malnutrition had probably driven him half-mad long before the siblings had discovered the bunker.
All the same, Kevin hadn't meant to hurt them - and he hadn't meant for that match to slip from the dark-haired girl's fingers and land amid a pile of dust-laden documents and arcane tomes - a word which here means really, really, really old and probably unfathomable books. He couldn't help but wonder what would have happened if he hadn't sent the boy reeling into the wall, where he had tumbled face-first onto a damaged pipe sticking out of the concrete. What would have happened if the little baby girl hadn't leapt for his throat, forcing him to strangle her with the coat hangar? What would have happened if the sobbing, hysterical girl hadn't charged him, insensible to the fact that had been holding a pair of garden shears out in front of his stomach.
Maybe he wouldn't be here now. Maybe he and the girl and her siblings would be somewhere far away from here. Maybe he and the girl, whoever she was, would have been alone together - and maybe Kevin would have finally had his first kiss. Looking down at her still corpse, her skin glowing hot amidst the encroaching flames, Kevin felt suddenly aroused.
A final wave of shame and frustration passed over him, and so it was, that Kevin Shapiro, boy orphan, virgin, murderer and pervert passed out of this life - literally - in a final blaze of glory as the last few precious breaths of oxygen were consumed by the flames.