The frantic screech of the tape roused him from his drowsing.
He glanced up at the snowy static that fell with a hiss and a crackle on the TV screen.
With a yawn he stretched, ran his fingers through greasy bangs, before resuming his gaze on the shuddering screen before him.
He fumbled for the remote and clicked rewind.
"Tom?!"
The fear and alarm oozed from the TV set. He crawled from the couch, remote control still in hand as he kneeled up, his haggard face pressed firmly against the pane. His pasty features illuminated in the black and white glow of death.
"Amy?" He mouthed along with the pixel image of himself.
He didn't flinch at the sound of the bullet anymore, didn't feel the bile rise in his throat at the sight of her limp body crashing to the floor, and his face remained impassive as the potato chips hurtled against her lifeless body.
He just stared, his dark eyes unblinking as all life seeped from her body for the hundredth and twenty second time.
When it stuttered to a stop he clicked rewind again.
It only took the tape 3:3 seconds to wind back.
He mentally added this new revelation to the list of all the other things he could have done if he'd dared to move.
Like exchange his life for hers.
He pressed play and the images flashed before his eyes again, the grainy look of horror on her face was imprinted beneath his eyelids and the shot of the bullet resounded with a crack in his buzzing ears.
Why didn't you move?
"It happened so quick-" the whisper fell from trembling lips
You had a whole 3:3 seconds.
3:3 seconds where you didn't move, didn't breathe. Just whimpered her name as if that would shield her from the bullet.
"I didn't know what to do!" cried Hanson his eyes shimmering, the CCTV footage twisted and turned in his watery orbs.
Didn't know what to do? You're a cop! You only have one thing to do – save people.
The voice belittled him, berated him for his stupidity and weakness.
He should have moved, wrestled the gun away - done something.
Instead you stood and watched. Just stood and watched as she was robbed of an existence. And now, now you're so haunted you can't stop can you? You can't stop watching the bullet rack through her fragile body. Can you?
"I can stop" seethed Hanson his teeth clenched.
Sure you can
"I can!" spat Hanson. He blinked in an effort to dislodge the moisture, whimpered as the world blurred at the edges.
Then why are you rewinding it again?
He glanced down to see his index finger firmly pressed against the remote. With a snarl he hurled it across the room, relished the crack it made against the wall.
You're sick my friend
"Leave me alone" he hissed, his once soft brown eyes an ardent and fiery black.
I'm not even here.
He spluttered as the sob broke free from deep inside his throat. The tears trickled down his cheeks leaving a dirty trail of guilt and despair.
Tears won't bring her back Tommy.
"Shut up" he sniffed
You think crying can help? You think you can find solace in tears? Come on Tom you know better than that. Did you spend this much time blubbering over dear daddy's death?
"SHUT UP!"
The animalistic scream tore through the apartment, resounded off the walls and seeped into his soul.
He sat, face smudged with tears and dirt, his hair dishevelled as he gazed at the humming TV set. The static buzzed around him but he didn't move.
He just sat in his week old shirt and boxers staring at a tape that continued to rewind.