Guilt
Summary: Every once in a while Carlton Lassiter would wake up in the morning with an all-too familiar, crushing sensation of guilt. Drabble.
Rating: K+
Disclaimer: I don't own Psych in any manner or form.
Every once in a while Carlton Lassiter would wake up in the morning with an all-too familiar, crushing sensation of guilt. For the first second of two he'd be fine. Just long enough to hope it wouldn't happen, but then the guilt slammed into him like a semi truck. His insides constricted, his heart palpitated, he sweated, gasped for air, clenched the bedsheets beneath him.
Then it passed.
The guilt always receded, slowly, until Carlton was able to breathe again, to relax his white-knuckled grip on his cotton sheets, and at last roll out of bed and start his day. It was not a morning routine, but it happened often enough that he had already gotten used to it.
On those mornings, Lassiter would unlock the compartment he had built himself under his study desk, where he kept records of all the people he hadn't been able to save during his long career. He kept them in order from most painful to least.
Although years had passed since he'd failed him, the file front and foremost remained: Spencer, Shawn.
A/N: Sorry it's been a while! I promise I am working on longer fics; it's just been very busy and stressful as of late. :)