A/N: Okay, so now that the craziness of Nanowrimo is over, I've gotten back to my fanfictions. Yay! So. This is going to be made up of ten (really short) chapters in a story told backwards. Really, really dark; there's a character death, so beware. Other than that... reviews are really appreciated. Rated for language.
People do not die for us immediately, but remain bathed in a sort of aura of life which bears no relation to true immortality but through which they continue to occupy our thoughts in the same way when they were alive. It is as though they were traveling abroad.
- Marcel Proust
X.
In retrospect, he knows he should have seen this coming.
It's all there, when he looks back; a million signs, puzzle pieces that fit together to form one horrific picture. From the way she didn't call him that morning right down to the twitch of the suspect's index finger, he should have seen it all, but he didn't. And he hates it, he hates it, because that's what he does. That's what his life is based on. Reading the puzzle pieces and creating the picture that no one else can see. Only this time he screwed up.
And this time, it really fucking mattered.
