I’ve made the choice. I’ve written the scene. It fits. It feels right. I feel awful.
We all feel something for our main characters as we write them love, hate, annoyance. They grow in our heads from a mere idea until they take shape and have desires and wills of their own. Sometimes I feel like an overbearing mother telling them they are going to do what I say. They simply look at me, cross their arms, stamp their feet, and tell me no.
The problem comes when they start telling you that it is time to let them go. Sometimes you can talk them off the ledge and figure a way around it, but not this time at least not for me. I feel horrible about doing it and even worse given the circumstances surrounding the death.