Bad Cop stumbled into the restroom on dragging feet. With a groan, he gripped the sink tightly, leaning up against it, and then looked at his shaded self in the mirror. He started trembling, as he studied the bruises which had started to form in his face and the bloody nose. His body was aching – as well as his heart.
What have I done?
He relived the whole scene again in his head: Lord Business threateningly shoving him against the window, his parents being lead into the room, his good side being wiped away with violence, his parents screaming as he froze them himself.
He felt tears stinging his eyes.
"Say something," he muttered, hoping for his good side to show some sign of life.
When nothing came, he ripped off his aviator shades and stared into the mirror.
"Say something!" he repeated a little stronger this time. At that point, he reached for the round glasses in his front pocket, and even though he realized they had been shattered, he put them on. His heart was racing, and he panted while adjusting the glasses over and over, just waiting for his companion to take over.
"Please," he begged at his own reflection, "don't leave me, buddy."
The tears came down in that instant.
"Come on..." His voice cracked, the words barely even a whisper. All he could see was his battered face. For the first time ever, no voice answered him, and that tore him apart. Bending over the sink, he started whimpering, almost gasping for air.
Pathetic.
"I'm so sorry..."