"Carlos, speak to me, mate."
"Unnhhhhh….b-boss?"
"Jesus…"
"What?"
"They've done a number on you…."
"C..Can't...look...worse than….you."
"You might be right."
"Fuck."
"I can't get you off this tailgate."
"Figures…"
"H….hey, boss…"
"Yes?"
"Do...you think….I'll go to heaven?"
"...I'm sure of it, Carlos, I'm sure you will."
"You're full...of shit."
"Yep."
"Boss…..come here."
"Yes, Carlos?"
"I'm far too out…...say a prayer for me."
"...You are, O God, quick to pardon and desire man's salvation. In Your goodness we ask You to grant our deceased brother everlasting happiness. Take him into your arms…."
-BLAM-
"And forgive his sins. May he be granted a place with all other true Saints, Amen."
"I'm sorry, kid, I failed you."
Hill snapped upright in the bed, drenched in a cold sweat. His neon-green eyes snapped around the room in a panicked frenzy. After a tense few seconds he remembered where he was, and forced his muscles to relax. Not surprisingly he found he was clutching his Shepherd, which thudded heavily into the mattress as he dropped it. "Fuck me." He muttered quietly. Running a hand through the dark orange mop of his hair, he swung his legs off the bed. Another sleepless night with the memories that haunted him making themselves known very clearly. Sliding into the jeans that had been discarded carelessly in the floor, he made his way out of the room. Striding barefoot on the cold linoleum, he entered the kitchen. Swiping a bottle of Bubbly (How classy people get wasted, according to the label) from the fridge as he made his way to the deck.
"….."
"Go ahead, pull the trigger. You're only prolonging your own downfall."
"..."
"Ah, I see you listened to me. Good, toss the gun away."
"..."
"What're you doing?"
"I'm about to dissect you, piggy. Let's see if I cant find that black heart of yours, eh ?."
Hill shook his head to clear the memories away. Resting the bottle on the railing, he leaned forward.
"You've got the Saints biggest fan running Ult-"
-BLAM-
"Bullshit, Mr Vogel. Enjoy your flight."
He grimaced at the thought, Vogel had fell for a long time and left quite a mess. Street cleaners spent days on that one. He tossed the now empty bottle far into the trees that bordered the yard. With all the bad memories, some people would wonder why he moved back to Stilwater. Somewhere in the distance music played softly, and near the trees a few teens cut through his yard. The bitterly sweet smell of pot wafted through the air, a fond reminder of simpler times. A pair of arms wrapped round his bare torso, running across his abs.
"More bad dreams, Love?"
Hill nodded, still staring into the distance.
"How many times this month?"
"Six times."
"I wish you'd quit punishing yourself."
"Kirsten…"
Hill trailed off, sighing. Kirsten rested her head against his back, tightening her embrace. After a few moments she kissed between his shoulder blades.
"Come back inside, you need your sleep."
"I don't need to sleep."
"Church…."
He silenced her with a quick peck on the lips.
"Trust me, you're dreamy enough for a lifetime of sleep."
"God, you are so corny."