A little one shot about the aftermath of Post Mortem. Just a little drabble:)
Greg was falling – sort of.
He had had this sickening feeling in his stomach for weeks. It was kind of like the feeling you get of climbing up your stairs in the dark, and when you think there's one stair yet to climb when there isn't, you step in the air. But it felt even worse.
He was a killer.
Greg had made it clear to himself that it was merely self-defence. There was no way knowing that the kid would die. The kid was running at him with a brick in his hand, for Christ's sake!
But was it a reason good enough to claim someone's life?
He could hear the accusations and whispers behind his back, no matter if they were his own imagination or not. Worst part was the confused and angry eyes of the grieving mother, who couldn't believe the verdict.
Excusable.
Greg had found a whole new dimension for the saying "if looks could kill".
He sat down. Heart-wrenching, that's what it was. Greg was an excusable killer with a Hammurabi in the shape of the little brother after him. Actually, he started to feel comfortably numb now. The way Greg's life had in mere seconds turned upside-down was almost ridiculous.
Masquerade my ass.
Better to get to work, then.