Summery -Greg is having nightmares about the night of the assault. When his thoughts conspire, could one phone call save him? ("Fannybashing" follow-up)
Rating -TComments -I hope this is good because it is the very first thing I have posted on the internet ever in my life (except reviews) ;)
…The empty eyes staring at him, the revving of the Denali's engine, the deafening beating of his own heart, the screeching of the tires…
Greg Sanders snapped awake from yet another nightmare about the beating. The inquest was over, but he was sure the kid's family would win the wrongful death lawsuit they had filed against him. But on nights like this, Greg could not care less about trials or lawsuits. All he could think about was the family. The look on the brother's face. The mother's cry. The drawn out beep- the sound of flat lining.
Greg stumbled into the kitchen of his small apartment, opened the refrigerator, and grabbed his third beer of the night. Since the assault he had developed somewhat of a drinking problem. He had snapped at Nick the day before for calling him out on it. This whole thing was ruining his relationships and any chance he ever had of furthering certain friendships. He thought of Sara and how much he loved her despite her affair with Grisom. He plopped down in his recliner and buried his face in his hands. After a few shaky breaths, he picked up the remote and turned on the television. Within minutes he was asleep to the lullaby of The Three Stooges.
…The screeching of the tiers, then silence, awful silence, glass shattering, his heart beating faster and faster, fear, pain…
Greg woke up to a Victoria's Secret commercial. He didn't even bother to look at women in sexy lingerie; he turned off the TV and looked at the clock. "Not a bad time," he thought to himself. He had slept for almost two hours this time, not long enough to be rested, but plenty of time for what was left of his beer to go flat. He didn't care, he drank it anyway. Suddenly he felt cold and his body began to tremble. He closed his eyes and tried to relax, but when he did, he saw the grieving mother. He thought of his own mother and how he had been lying to her all these years. Suddenly he hated himself for that. He hated himself for having a drinking problem. He hated himself for killing that boy. He hated himself for snapping at Nick. He hated himself for not telling Sara how he felt. He hated himself for hating himself.
In a combination of drunken depression, guilt, grief, and self-hatred, he reached into the pouch on the side of his chair and pulled out a gun. He stared at it for a moment, then brought it to his temple. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes…
The phone rang. He waited for a moment, then lowered the gun end answered the phone. "Hello," he greeted in a shaky voice.
"Hi, Greg, it's Sara. Sorry to call so late, but I couldn't put this off any longer. I'm worried about you."
"Worried about me?" he asked, not quite comprehending.
"Ever sense what happened, you've been distant and quiet; not Greg. Or at least not the Greg I fe…"
"That you what?"
There was a long pause. Then, simultaneously, they both said, "I love you."
There was another long pause.
"Get some sleep, Greg."
"Yeah," he muttered and hung up the phone.
A part of Greg that had been dying inside suddenly sprang to life, and he felt hope. He made a decision right then that in the morning he would call his mother and tell her the truth. No more crazy thoughts of suicide. No more regrets.
Greg looked down at the gun in his hand and realized that it wasn't loaded.
-This was my first ever fanfic, so gime some reviews, por favor. Be honest, I have a healthy self-esteem ;) -